


Above and Below

by LogosMinusPity



Series: Tomorrow Never Knows [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogosMinusPity/pseuds/LogosMinusPity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lightning must readjust in order to find her own path and move on; culminating in Fang/Lightning. Taking place after the events of FFXIII.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return to Forever

**Author's Note:**

> This story (while taking place after FF XIII) ignores all of the events and canon of FF XIII-2.

Lightning stood on the dock of Bodhum Beach, looking out into the shadowed night sky. She studied the muted glow of the stars from their true heavens, their filtered light dimmed and refracted through the transparent crystal that had transformed the shell of the sphere-world of Cocoon. Bodhum had been one of the lucky settlements on Cocoon that had survived the destruction of Orphan, continuing to prosper with its cousin cities thanks to its fortunate position on the bottom curve of the now crystallized shell.

Two and a half months. It had been only two and a half months since the War of Revelations had ended, since they had defeated Orphan and completed their focus. It was barely anytime at all, and yet it felt like years had passed to Lightning. So many years had been spent in Bodhum—her entire life, really, discounting her brief but unforgettable journey as a Pulse l'Cie. She had been born in this quiet, sea-side town, and it was only several months ago she had still thought herself content to stay here forever. But things had changed since then.

_"You're leaving for officer training?" asked Serah, her pale blue eyes going wide with surprise._

_Lightning shrugged it off, letting her own gaze drift away._

" _It was something Lieutenant Amodar brought up before this whole mess started," she explained, throwing an open-handed gesture to the Cocoon atmosphere. "He sent in a recommendation and everything. And I guess despite whatever biases there may still be in the new government, they thought that accepting a former l'Cie would be better then sticking with PSICOM's old policies. Former-PSICOM, I guess I should say."_

With the dissolution of the Sanctum and the conclusion of the "War of Revelations" as historians were beginning to call it, the Public Safety and Intelligence Command had been dismantled; PSICOM had been too deeply tied to the Sanctum's puppet government to survive the dismantling of it.

The Guardian Corps, by contrast, had filled the void, taking on the role of both military protection and police law enforcement. All of the remaining Cavalry and Bodhum Regiment members had been immediately restored to their old posts, most with medals of honor. As for Lightning, she had at first resisted the call to return to the military, seeing no point in it. But her emerging frustration at having nothing else to do rapidly got the better of her, and soon enough she found herself back before Amodar's regional office, nearly begging to reinstated to the Bodhum Security Regiment (not the she ever begged for anything—but still, it was undoubtedly as close as she would come to it).

Initially, she had refused the offers of laurels and promotions, seeing no merit in it. After all, she still reasoned with herself, she was not one of the true individuals responsible for saving Cocoon.

But it seemed as though things would not just "go back" to how they had been before. Much to her utter surprise, she found herself becoming discontent with relatively peaceful return to the Bodhum Security Regiment. It had been precisely what she wanted at first—the very thing, she had believed, that she had always wanted from it—something to keep her busy, something to focus her free time on. And yet as the days melded into weeks, the ever present restlessness grew in her mind. She would never be able to say just how deeply thankful she was to have Serah back, to be allowed the chance back at a normal life. But it didn't help the way she felt.

She wasn't satisfied in Bodhum anymore.

She found herself constantly ill at ease, unable to relax and enjoy the simplicities of life that she had once found pleasure in. She knew that she should be happy, that she should make the most of what time she had been given back. But it simply seemed as though it was not to be.

It had, ultimately, been Amodar who had once again stepped in for her. He had called her into his office—the third time that week alone—his weathered face both caring and concerned.

_Lots of things have changed._

That's what he had told her, before suggesting again that she pursue officer academy. So many things had changed, but his strong recommendation for her remained, and he was confident that whatever politics raged over the former l'Cie, the military would not hesitate to accept her into their more elite ranks. And unlike before, it suddenly struck her as an appealing option. She had felt the tiniest drop of excitement stir within her at the thought of moving beyond the sleepy little village she had lived in all of her life.

Lightning surveyed the night-darkened beach currently around her. Many things had changed in Bodhum over the past few months, yet deep inside of her she knew that it wasn't Bodhum that had truly changed, but her.

She sighed, turning back toward the loud and cheery setting that lay behind her. The Bodhum Café was abuzz with movement and people to celebrate the elder Farron's going away party. Serah had insisted on doing something in celebration of Lightning's promotion, and though Lightning was the least keen to do anything but leave Bodhum quietly, she finally gave in to her sister's persistent begging, not wanting to cause anymore strife between the two siblings than what the past years had already done.

With Lightning's half-hearted blessing, Serah had immediately gone to Snow, and between Snow's and the rest of NORA's enthusiastic desire to win over Lightning's personal respect, the end result had been a true party being thrown on Bodhum Beach the night before Lightning was due to leave for the officer military training academy.

Of course, Serah and Snow had to quite literally push the reticent Lightning into the mess of people who awaited at the café to celebrate with her. But once Lebreau had started handing out drinks from the bar, it had been far easier for Lightning to make her escape out on to the isolated and empty dock.

Lightning tossed back the glass of water she still held in her hand. She had never been one for drinking much, and she certainly had no desire to catch her early morning airship ride with a hangover. She also hated parties. Particularly ones where she was the guest of honor. She had never enjoyed being put in the social lime-light. And besides, she silently mused to herself, she could count on one hand the number of people present in the café who were actually her friends.

She turned back toward the crowded throng that flooded the café. Her lip automatically curled in distaste at the thought of venturing back in, but she steeled her resolve. If she kept hiding out for much longer, she knew Serah would worry soon. At the very least, she owed better than her last party performance for her sister—her notorious twenty-first birthday celebration.

She walked steadfastly back across the beach, taking a deep breath before stepping foot back into the crowded building, trying to blend in and move through the bodies as painlessly as possible. Nonetheless, despite her attempts to re-enter the café as stealthily as possible, it seemed as though stealth was either a futile attempt, or that her skills in that department were severely lacking.

"Yeeeah!" cheered Snow loudly—and rather drunkenly—as soon as he caught sight of her trying to slink through the mass of people. "Sis is back!"

"Moron," Lightning muttered briefly under her breath, but there was no true malice behind it. He was a moron, she knew, but a good one, nonetheless. She rolled her eyes at him, which ended with her gaze on an entirely different sight making its way toward her.

_Oh no…_

It took nearly all of her self control to keep from actually vocalizing her mental groan. Even then she wasn't sure if she'd succeeded, not that it would have dissuaded them.

Some people just never seemed to give up on her status as a happily single individual, and unfortunately the members of NORA were some of the top ranking people on that particular black list. Yuj and Lebreau in particular seemed to love to do nothing more than push her buttons once they had both had more than a fair share of drinks, and judging by the glazed twinkle in both of their eyes, they had certainly passed that point for the night.

"Light-er-ning!" yelled Yuj happily, making her visibly cringe. With the café as crowded as it was, there was no chance to escape She turned to face her imminent doom.

She clenched her jaw. Her body had already gone uncomfortably rigid as the two rapidly encroached on her personal space, Yuj grabbing her arm while Lebreau approached from her other side.

"It's  _Lightning_ ," she managed through gritted teeth.

"Yep!" affirmed Yuj, as though he had said it perfectly only seconds earlier. He tugged against her arm. She felt her fingers twitch with the instinctive need to grab her gunblade. He winked at her suggestively.

"Still keeping to yourself?"

"It's been working for me so far," she responded sarcastically.

"What a tragedy! Is there  _no one_  who can melt this soldier's icy heart?" queried Lebreau. She leaned against Lightning, her breath heavy with consumed spirits.

Before Lightning could respond with a violent retort, Yuj back cut in, as if on cue. "Come on, there's gotta be someone here. What's your type? Short, tall? Pale, dark?"

"Man or woman?" interjected Lebreau, now slinging one arm around the sergeant's shoulders, her fingers trailing their own path.

Lightning fidgeted nervously, increasingly aware of how many other inhabitants of the bar had turned to look toward the scene Lebreau was creating, many eying Light with scarce-concealed interest.

She roughly threw Lebreau's arm off of her. She was trying not to use excessive force, but didn't know if anything less would get across. Her face easily fell into the iciest glare she could manage, her ire apparent.

"I swear by Etro, if you two don't stop spouting nonsense, you'll be on the receiving end of my fist," Lightning warned, hoping to any powers above and below that her threats would break through their drunken stupor. For once, it seemed as though her prayers would finally be answered.

Snow interrupted, his voice booming as he held both of his hands up in a placating gesture. "Whoa, now. Yuj, Lebreau, you better not take what the lady here says lightly. Sis sure doesn't know how to pull her punches. Speaking from personal experience, the only person to ever lay me out harder was Fang, I think."

Miraculously, the two NORA members disengaged themselves from Lightning immediately, both moving toward their leader as they voiced their disbelief.

"No way, Snow. No way anyone could have punched you harder than that time with Gadot," said Yuj, looking unconvinced.

Lightning barely heard their discussion, though. She suddenly thought of Fang and Vanille—two true friends of theirs who should have been here, but weren't. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear back the unexpected pang of regret that had struck her like a kick to the chest.

She looked around the room. It was filled with familiar faces, and yet she wouldn't miss any of them remotely. Except for one. And  _she_  had stopped needing "Lightning" a long time ago.

Suddenly she felt horribly claustrophobic in the café, almost as though she were physically suffocating. She couldn't stand to be here anymore; not in this place, with these people. The choking desire to run away nearly became overwhelming. She needed to leave, and now.

As she exited the building a small but firm hand grabbed her shoulder. Lightning whipped around to find herself staring back into eyes the very same hue and shape as her own, but brimming with worry.

"Claire, what's wrong?" asked Serah, concern flooding her voice.

The concern helped ground her more. She realized how heavily she was breathing, how flustered she must look, especially when compared to usual. Years of practice did not go to waste—she schooled her features quickly.

"It's okay," she said as reassuringly as she could. "Think I had too much to drink. Was going to head out."

It was a blatant lie, but she prayed that Serah would take it.

Serah's brow furrowed. She wasn't surprised that Lightning wanted to leave, but it was entirely uncharacteristic of her to make excuses, particularly one as weak as this.

"Okay. Are you sure you don't want company getting back home?"

Lightning forced a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Need to get rest before tomorrow. Don't leave early on my account."

Serah stared back for a long second before finally nodding her head in acceptance. "Alright. Good night, Claire—I'll see you in the morning before you go."

Lightning half stumbled out of the bar—as if she were actually drunk—all too desperate to remove herself from the situation and to break into a sprint back toward the safe comfort of home, like she would have many years ago, when her parents were still alive.

Those days were lost to her.

Instead, she walked calmly, the momentary stumble already stricken from memory. She sped up as she entered the house she and Serah shared, making a beeline for her room. It was nearly empty; what little luggage she had already neatly packed now standing attention by the doorway.

She collapsed into her bed, a sudden wave of exhaustion robbing her of any will she had left to keep her eyes open longer.

Sometime later, a rustling movement next to her awoke her from her nameless dreams. Lightning didn't even need to fully open her eyes to recognize who it was.

"Serah?" asked Lightning, her voice thick from sleep. "What—"

Her sister snuggled up against her, just like how she used to sleep with Lightning right after their parents died. But it had been years since she had slept over in Lightning's bed. Why the sudden change now?

"Claire, tell me more about Pulse," begged Serah. "I want to hear another story of your adventures."

It caught her off guard, this blindingly simple request. "Silly, I've already told you everything before, and you have Snow to tell you things, too, you know."

"I know, but…no one tells stories quite the way you do, Claire."

As if sensing her older sister hesitation, Serah pressed on. "Please? One last time before you leave?"

Lightning let out a sigh of acquiescence. "Alright, alright. What do you want to hear me talk about?"

There was a brief moment of ponderous silence before Serah finally decided. "Oh! Tell me about that giant building again! What was it called? The Watchtower?"

"Taejin's Tower," corrected Lightning automatically, her mind already recalling back images of the massive, Pulsian structure. She remembered the shock and awe she, Snow, Sahz, and Hope had all felt when they first laid eyes on the broken monolith, stunned that Pulse could possess such an unspoken level of architectural sophistication.

"We had finally made our way through Sulya Springs—you remember when I told you about the springs, right? With the fal'Cie Bismarck. Anyway, we were getting closer to Oerba with every step. All we had left to do was pass through the ancient monolith that Pulsians called Taejin's Tower. I still remember when we first rounded that worn cliff corner so that we could fully see it. It was colossal, Serah, bigger than anything I've ever seen in Cocoon, even in Eden…"

She continued on with her story, now almost completely unaware of Serah, her mind taken back to a place that had been forcibly locked away in her memories, trapped worlds away.


	2. Valhalla's Gates

_Lightning bit down a hiss of frustration. She knew she was being impatient again, but it was so hard to help it. Yes, her fellow Guardian Corps soldiers had drastically increased their skill level and experience since the reinstatement of the Bodhum Security Regiment, but then again, so had she, and by an immeasurable difference. Even without her l'Cie powers, she was still far more capable then these raw beginners. Particularly for something as simple as a routine monster raid in the Sunleth Waterscape Reserve._

_She had directly requested to Amodar that he let her do a solo investigation, and what had he done was charge her to lead an entire squad on the monster raid instead. A few she could handle, but an entire squad of new soldiers? It didn't help that she would always inevitably compare any group missions she was assigned to with her group experience while a l'Cie. Certainly, she had her complaints there, too—Snow for one, it went without saying—but the more she was forces to work with others, the more she began to appreciate just how well she and the rest of the former l'Cie were able to work together. She shook her head to will the ponderous thoughts away. If she didn't watch herself, soon she might be saying that she actually_ missed _all of them, and that was surely an absurd idea._

_They were only a mile or two into their patrol, and had only encountered a sparse few monsters thus far; a relatively uneventful round. The weather had been gorgeous when they had set out—beautifully sunny with just the right amount of wind to cool the hot rays. But as Lightning chanced a glance upward, she saw the sky suddenly darken with storm clouds._

_And that's when the heavens opened up on them. A waterfall of rain erupted out of the air, dousing the entire squad and making it nearly impossible to see more than ten feet in front of your face. They quickly broke form and began running behind Lightning, who was now attempting to find the closest site to get them out of the freak storm._

_Perhaps they had accidentally wandered into the monsters' territorial region, or perhaps they had been waiting to strike all along; in retrospect, Lightning would say it made no difference. The only thing that mattered was what actually happened: as Lightning led the way toward the sheltered cliff-side, a large group of sahagin launched a coordinated attack against her and her scattered raid squad. Only her impossibly quick reflexes had saved her when a sahagin suddenly jumped out of the shadowed downpour toward her. A second later in her dodge, and its beak would have torn out her jugular. She began to make quick work of the monsters that were attempting to overwhelm her, shouting out orders all the while to the troops behind her. An answering call of well-timed gunfire could have made her smile with pride. She would have these soldiers well-trained yet._

_However, the yells of frightened men broke her concentration as she slew the last monster near her. Panic had broken out in the rearguard as a second string of sahagin launched from behind their group. Her new recruits were being overwhelmed by the attack of the aquatic beasts._

_Gunblade or no, she realized with a sense of dawning horror that she was too far, and there were too many sahagin. She was too separated from her squad to effectively help. She had never wanted to deliver a message of failure to Amodar—or to the family members that soldiers left behind. She could feel a blossom of pain and sorrowful frustration grow in her chest. For a half second she grasped at the air, desperate for an answer as the monsters began their charge toward her squad, as her heart beat an irregular rhythm in her pounding ears._

_Then, for Etro knows whatever reason, she instinctively threw out her hand toward the heavens, palm pointed upward and fingers spread wide. For a brief moment she wondered at the hopelessness at such a gesture, then the very air twisted and screamed as a blast of white-hot lightning rained down on the monsters, her Thundaga spell leaving nothing but the blackened ash of the sahagin and the both fearful and awestruck expressions of her raid squad._

_Suddenly she doubled over, her heart pounding rapidly while her chest screamed in agony. It was as though her skin had been lit on fire for all that it appeared normal. Her fingers clawed a grip over her heart, where her l'Cie brand once lay, furiously trying to regain some physical and mental hold over the affliction, her squad members now completely forgotten._

_"Ha. Never thought I'd see Miss Stoic over here show pain."_

_All thoughts of pain abruptly evaporated from her mind. She spun toward curiously familiar accented voice._

_"Fang?" she spoke, too incredulous to even care about how her voice squeaked ever so slightly._

_Fang—for who else would it be?—cracked a smug grin, leaning her weight against her simple spear._

_"Don't act so surprised now, sweetheart."_

_Her darkly verdant eyes twinkled with mirth. Lightning stood there looking thunderstruck, attempting to squawk a wittily coherent response back. A stray thought passed though her brain as she stared back; just how had she never noticed just how vibrantly colorful those eyes had been before?_

_Said eyes narrowed in a curious, very un-Fang like frown, before gradually widening in surprise. Suddenly she uncoiled from her spear with a fluid grace, no longer casually resting._

_"Light? What are you doing here?"_

_This time Light frowned. What on earth was going on?_

" _What do you mean, what am "_ I _" doing here? What are_ you _doing here?" she retorted, unable to help the irritation that crept into her tone. Why did Fang always have to be so bloody demanding?_

_Fang quirked her head to the side, now somberly studying Lightning with a gaze filled with…something. Lightning couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Fang began to close the distance between them murmuring out loud._

_"How…how is possible…but it's really you, isn't it?"_

_By the time she finished her question, her voice was nearly a whisper, her arm half outstretched as if to close the remaining gap between the two women. Lightning looked back up into Fang's eyes. They were a storm of mixed emotions. Confused herself, Lightning slowly raised her own hand back up toward Fang. She opened her mouth to speak._

"Please prepare for landing."

_The electronic, disembodied voice boomed across the sky, shaking the very earth. Even as it dissipated, the world continued heave, crumbling apart before her. She swung her head back toward Fang, but she was now yards away instead, and moving farther back by the second, as if being pulled by an invisible force. Lightning tried to run after her, but it was as though a great weight was pushing against her. She reached desperately toward the receding pinpoint figure, trying to close the distance, to reach her before she disappeared._

_Her legs would no longer move. She looked down briefly, and realized, with a dawning sense of horror, that she was entering crystal stasis again. Already the crystals had consumed her lower body and were eating away into her torso. She had only seconds left. She opened her mouth to call out, but her jaw froze in place._

_Her outstretched fingers turned to glass before her fading vision, and then everything turned dark and silent._

Lightning jerked forward with a muffled gasp, chest straining against the restraint that held her in place. She exhaled heavily, quickly re-orienting herself from the dizzying dream. She was on the military transport airship to the Eden academy. And she had obviously fallen asleep. She dared another glance around. She was seated alone, and thankfully no one else around her seemed to have noticed the temporary lapse from her usual demeanor. She shifted herself, trying to alleviate the tingling numbness in her legs that always occurred from sitting in the same position for too long—they would be landing within the next twenty minutes, and she was eager to be off the small airship and on her own two feet again.

Her hand drifted up to hover over her heart. She didn't need to unzip her jacket at all to know that her brand was visible again. It was a side effect of casting magic that she had discovered not too long after she first began using her powers again. Casting, or even just the intensive thought of casting, would call back the lines of her forgotten brand, temporarily repainting them on her flesh. It had chilled her to the bone the first time she saw it, until she quickly realized that her pseudo-l'Cie brand would reappear white and scorched, not black and growing, before slowly dissolving back to leave behind unblemished skin once again.

She had no idea if her (and the rest of the former l'Cie's) retention of magic was a usual thing. There had simply never been any other l'Cie even close to living memory to compare themselves to. After growing used to it, she finally decided that it was a final gift of sorts from Anima, a kind of partial compensation for all that they did for their Focus and the long gone fal'Cie. Whatever the reason for it, she had stopped questioning why, and merely took it at face value. After all, spell casting made her an even more potent soldier than before.

Her thoughts moved back toward the dream she had just awoken from—an embellished recollection of her first post-l'Cie spell-casting. It was not the first time she had had such a dream, but there was one significant difference this time: Fang.

Strange that she had been there, especially with the way she had been talking—strange even for a dream, perchance because it had been eerily realistic all the same.

The voice of the flight captain interrupted her again before she could contain any further thoughts on the matter, repeating procedures for landing. As they descended toward the airship pad outside of the Academy, Lightning looked out over the city, taking advantage of the birds-eye view while she still could. By the time she looked out the window, the bizarre dream was already being forgotten.

Eden. The former floating city capital of Cocoon and central seat of the Sanctum and the fal'Cie power. It had once been the center of cutting edge technological innovation in a massive urban metropolis. After the crystallization of Cocoon, the city had plunged from the sky to land on the bottom curve of the sphere world, occupying a crater sized portion of the Pulse vestige. Now it was a cruel shadow of that former Cocoon glory. Or perhaps, Lightning mused to herself, it was a more truthful portrayal of the dark shadows that had always lain behind the fal'Cie rule.

Regardless, the city no longer served the purpose it once possessed. Bereft of both government and citizens, but still swarming with untold numbers of Ark denizens and worse, Eden had been instead transformed into a new site to hold advanced military training, with the heart of the city proper still completely sealed off to contain the monsters that lurked within. It was here that she would spend the next twenty-one weeks of her life, undergoing intensive training—both in classes and on the field—to earn a commissioned officer rank. And after that point…well, then…then she'd be stationed at who knows where? She could put in a request, but it was something she had to even truly consider. For now, she didn't have to think about the future; she could throw herself into the oblivion of the present, and drown her hidden worries and self-doubts in a deluge of work.

She looked forward to it the way dying man in the desert thirsted for water.

Once their ship had landed, it was a fairly fast process of de-boarding and registering in the academy. They were quickly given their new training schedule and their room assignments for the barracks. Lightning was one of the few assigned to a room by herself. She mentally shrugged it off. She preferred being alone anyway, and she simply assumed that they put her by herself because of her l'Cie history. She couldn't imagine being stuck rooming with someone who was former PSICOM—reconciliation or no, she knew that she'd dealt her fair share of death and destruction toward the disbanded military group, and that hard feelings were rarely forgotten so easily.

She made her way to her new quarters, her bag of belongings slung over her shoulder. Her quarters were modest, neither particularly large nor overly small. It was plain and simple. A single bed, a closet, and a small desk with a military issued computer—all that she would need for her stay in Eden. She carefully placed her gunblade onto her desk and began the tedious process of unpacking.

Lightning had just finished putting away her clothing when her personal military transponder unit went off. She replaced her earpiece in and answered the call.

"Farron," she answered brusquely.

"Sergeant Farron, this is the secretary for Colonel Luccic. He is requesting your presence in his office right now."

She automatically nodded in response. "I copy that. Leaving for the Colonel's office now."

She hung up on the call, quickly making her way through the academy until she reached the administrative suites. She entered the Colonel's office, saluting smartly toward the uniformed man behind the table. He was a gruff-looking middle-aged man, undoubtedly far more serious in nature than Amodar—though that wan't exactly hard, especially considering how loose Amodar tended to be with rules and regulations, particularly when it came to Light.

"At ease, Sergeant," Lucic said, gesturing toward the open chair in front of his vast desk. "Have a seat."

She hesitated for a brief second before acceding, sitting down and folding her hands in her lap, meeting the Colonel's dark brow with her own pale gaze. Suddenly he cracked what she assumed was supposed to be a reassuring smile.

"Now I'm sure you're wondering why I've called you in…no need to be shy about it, now…yes, well, it's standard procedure for the CO to go through each of the new recruits one-on-one, and since the Major General is currently Pulse-side right now overseeing some joint military exercises with the Frontier GC legions there, I'm taking over."

He unplugged a datalog from his computer, typing a few things onto the bright blue screen before continuing.

"Your name precedes you, but I'd still like to go over your military files. You served under Amodar at the BSR, and he gave a glowing recommendation of your work there, both before and after the Purge. Physically, it looks like you're fit as a horse, and have flying marks in both close-quarter and ranged weaponry. The gunblade is very impressive for someone your age. Now, the records here also show that you've retained your ability to cast magic, correct? To what extent? What mana drives… pardon…magic are you capable of casting?"

Lightning frowned slightly but nodded, clearing her throat. "Ah…yes. I believe that it should all be recorded on my chart. Uh, I can cast healing magics—cure, esuna, and what not—and elemental spells—fire, lightning, ice—"

"Very good. Very good. Just double checking. Now, I know that your records also show that you no longer retain the power to summon those great Eidolons, but are you sure that's the case? You can tell me truthfully now."

Light looked up sharply at the question, but the Colonel's face seemed genuinely concerned and sincere. "I—I wouldn't  _lie,_  sir. I may have regained my ability to cast magic, but it seems as though the Eidolons are a temporary loan only, so to speak."

Luccic stared at her for a long second afterward. She met his gaze flatly; she had nothing to hide. He placed the datalog down on his desk and nodded slowly.

"Thank you for your time, Farron. You can head down to the medical ward to get your blood work updated."

This time Lightning was the one who nodded slowly, before standing to leave. As she was halfway through the door, the Colonel spoke again. "Oh, and welcome to the Academy."

Getting through the health center was a fairly speedy process. Little had changed since her last physical, and she thankfully had never had a fear of being poked or prodded with needles. It was still fairly early in the night when she returned back to her quarters after taking dinner, but once she finished sending a message out to her sister, she turned off the lights and crawled into her new bed. She was going to need her sleep, she knew; training was beginning before sunrise.


	3. Pygmalion

The mission had started out simple enough: reconnaissance of the inner metropolis of Eden, and collection of some lost datalogs that were still trapped in one of the old government buildings. They were to run in three-man sting operative cells, each officer-in-training given two elite-level soldiers under their command. Initially, she had been a bit worried about the two soldiers who would be assigned to her, but after the first monster they came across, she found herself not unpleasantly surprised. The men were fairly skilled in combat, had a firm grasp of group tactics, and, better yet, listened to her commands well. Perhaps this was simply the difference in the cut of Eden soldiers versus the more rural outposts like Bodhum.

That difference became more clearly pronounced when they encountered their first real challenge: a tyrant. Even when she had traveled with her l'Cie friends, tyrants had always been a difficulty; when combined with that dangerously annoying centaurion blade, it was all too easy to divide one's attention and quickly be pummeled by such a powerful foe. Nonetheless, the fight was surprisingly easier than expected. Briggs, the main gunman, provided more than adequate fire cover support as she and the other soldier, Tiso, charged in to disable the blade before staggering and disposing of the tyrant.

Having defeated the monster, Lightning sheathed her gunblade into its holster once again, pleased with the reliability of her subordinates, but willing herself to show to much of it.

"Good job, men. Let's get going, then, yes?"

The helmeted soldiers nodded in assent, reloading their own guns and readjusting their body armor.

"Tiso, you cover behind me. Briggs, you take the rearguard; I'll serve the vanguard."

"Roger that."

"Roger, ser."

She heard the soldiers quickly fall into place behind her as she continued to forge a path onward. Thankfully, a foe as powerful as the tyrant they had just dispatched held an inadvertent benefit—it also kept the surrounding area pleasantly clear of any other monsters. They had been trekking onward for several minutes, enjoying the silence and temporary respite from battle. Field work was a delight for Lightning after the first three weeks of being cloistered in the academy's classrooms and battle arenas. She had become…not bored, per say, of the routine (for there was more than enough to keep her busy)…but impatient for something more. The reconnaissance mission was a welcome change in her training, and a mental break to the all-too strange dreams that had been plaguing her with increasing frequency. Light shook her head before she could even begin letting her thoughts stray back down that path. She needed to keep her guard up; after all, she had no idea what kind of evils still lurked across the urban terrain.

It was the sound of a trigger being pulled that alerted her to danger at the last second. But for once, even her unnaturally quick reflexes couldn't save her. She unthinkingly reached up to pull the needled dart from where it had struck her in the neck allowing herself one brief moment to comprehend precisely what had occurred before the chemical took full effect.

Lightning crumpled onto the ground, her mind crying out what her voice could not.

He had shot her! He had actually  _shot_  her! Her own teammate, and with a tranquilizer at that! She could feel her eyes move frantically even as her pulse and breathing began to automatically slow. She thought furiously about using her gunblade to go and bash the hell out of these damn traitors. Only one finger let out a sad twitch when she commanded her arm to grab her weapon. Her mind turned toward calling forth a spell, but she found, much to her horror, that even that now seemed beyond her power. Incapable of making the appropriate gesture, she was unable to use even the most simple of magics.

"Looks like he was right after all—guess that tranq really works on a l'Cie," said one of the men; Briggs, based on the cadence.

"Huh. Yeah. Good for us, though. Hate to know what that would have done to a normal person." That was Tiso.

The ground beneath her vibrated in time with the approaching footsteps. Then, a boot dug in roughly into her side, turning her over onto her back so that she could see the soldier looming over her.

"Hello there, traitor," said Tiso, his voice flooded with venom. "You didn't think PSICOM would forget all the favors you dealt out to us so quickly, did you? Well, it's about time to pay up."

For one of the few times in many long years, Lightning felt a true sense of fear constrict her throat. She was completely and utterly immobilized, helpless before the mercy of her captors. Normally she would have cursed herself for not having seen it coming, but even that thought had been pushed away. She realized that after all she had done, after all of the times she had defied chance and escaped death, she was finally going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it.

If only she still had her Eidolon. If only Odin had remained with her after the fall of Orphan. If only. There were so many "if only's", but she supposed that none of them mattered any more.

Suddenly, she felt a searing pain rip through her chest, centering directly around where she knew her l'Cie brand once lay. It spread outward, burning through her body with a white hot intensity that would have made her cry out if she still could. Instead she was paralyzed, unable to even blink as she felt the fiery wave run rapidly through her blood and veins to consume her in its entirety. But as it reached her finger tips and toes it vanished away, leaving behind a feeling of cooling contentment and self-confidence within—the exact same sensation, Lightning realized with a start—that she felt whenever she had summoned Odin.

It was then that she had a second realization: she could move again. The lethargic weight of the tranquilizer had completely evaporated, leaving her free to use her full mobility as soon as she wanted.

"Just hurry up with it already," spoke Briggs, interrupting her thoughts. "I know the tranq is supposed to last for a least an hour, but I don't trust those things. Plus, who knows what else could be creeping around here. Let's just stuff her and get back to report it."

"All right, all right."

Tiso stalked back over toward Lightning's still prone form, unsheathing a rather wicked-looking knife in the process. He knelt down to the ground, straddling Lightning between his legs, grabbing the collar of her jacket with one hand to reveal her unprotected neck.

"Trust me, l'Cie," he hissed. "I'm going to enjoy every second of this."

As soon as the soldier raised his knife into the air in preparation to land the killing blow, Lightning sprung into action. Grabbing the hand that gripped onto her collar, she executed a grappling flip that tossed the unsuspecting man far behind her so that he could land on his back— _hard_. Before he even had time to finish his grunt of pain, she had already pulled out her gunblade and pumped five successive and lethal shots of lead into his brain.

Briggs's yell of rage alerted her to the danger with plenty of spare time to spin back around and bring her blade up to block a wild swing that would have otherwise likely cut her in half. Child's play, really—the man stood no chance against her. In only a few swift movements, she had disarmed him and knocked him to the ground, strategically using her gun once again on his knee and elbow joints to completely immobilize any threat or chance of running away the fool might have. She waited for his scream of pain to subside before putting the tip of her blade back to his throat. Her bright eyes were cold with fury as she stood over him, his helmet now removed so that she could see his face.

"Who sent you?" she demanded. "Who orchestrated this fiasco?"

The former-PSICOM soldier attempted to spit at her, laughing with spite afterward. "You bitch. I may have failed today, but you'll pay for what you did to us—to Cocoon—and my comrades will dance over your—"

Lightning cut off the tirade prematurely, barely blinking as she felt the hot arterial spray of blood strike her.  _Scum_ , she thought idly to herself. Unfazed by the events, she went about systematically searching the still warm bodies of her two "subordinates", ransacking their supplies and looking for any evidence of who was behind this coordinated effort. She had never been one up for the tastes of "interrogation", and she had an inkling that both of these men were probably well-trained enough that they would have never given up any information regardless. A soft sigh of resignation passed her lips as her search yielded nothing useful. Whoever was behind this had been very careful to leave no tracks. That alone gave testament to how high up this stemmed back to.

She knelt back down to clean her gunblade before replacing it into her holster. Loathe though she was to admit it, the attempt on her life had been a near success. Truthfully, she should, by all rights, be dead. Her curiosity piqued once again, she brought her hand up to her heart, but after a minute of intense concentration, she gave up. She was still unable to summon Odin at all, so what exactly had happened?

Lightning stared up into the pale blue sky, one fist absentmindedly held over where her brand used to lay. After some time, a small but genuine smile graced her features.

"Thank you, old friend," she whispered into the wind. She bowed her head in reverence before continuing on her way. She still had a mission to fulfill, after all. With that in mind, she continued on her way, into the heart of the old capital.

Being only one person, she chose to adopt a strategy more of stealth—she had no doubt that she was capable enough to take on any of the monsters she might encounter single-handedly (excepting, of course, an adamantoise), but the question was, did she really want to? It may have taken a bit longer that way, but she finally made her way to the central government building, former power seat of the Sanctum and the fal'Cie. With a single-minded intensity, she quickly infiltrated deep into the building, systematically searching until she found a usable data terminal. She inserted her blank datalog into the computer, and immediately began the simple but slow process of downloading all of the respective files she'd been tasked with retrieving.

After a few minutes of guarded waiting, her datalog beeped to let her know that she had finished uploading the target information from central computer. Lightning unplugged her unit to replace it back into her personal carry pack, and stilled. She recognized this place. As if drawn by an irresistible force, she began walking out of the room and down the white-washed corridor, finally entering through sliding doors to a room that she knew oh so well. So little had changed since she was last here; it more worn for wear, certainly, but it was still the same.

It was Orphan's Cradle—the very room where they had put an end to the antics of Barthandelus and his doomsday design permanently. She scanned the room, slowly walking to the center. Fallen beams and piles of debris littered the room, but they may as well have been invisible to her sight. For that moment, she was trapped in a memory of the past, where her vision was going dark even as her body crystallized into a Cie'th, the form of Orphan lording over them from the pool that still lay before her, even now. Lightning stopped, continuing to stare at the calm pool for some time.

When she became aware of the fact that she was hesitating she made a sound of disgust and shook her head. Since when was she afraid of facing anything? She marched up to the edge of the pool and, gripping the stone edge, looked down into the water. The pool was unerringly clear, its surface so deathly still that it was hard to believe the transparent perfection came from water instead of glass. The well was deep, stretching down many feet before Lightning could see a surface of any sort.

But in those very depths she quickly distinguished two familiar forms, carved out in perfection amongst the other random crystal growth. They lay at the bottom, surely the source and center of the crystal pillar that upheld Cocoon now. Her grip tightened painfully against the stone. For a moment, a rush of unspoken emotion overcame her. She wanted nothing more than to dive headlong into the pool, to push her lungs to their limit and swim down to the frozen figures that lay trapped below. If she could only reach Vanille and Fang, if she could just bring them back, then maybe, just maybe…

But she pulled herself back from the dream, running a mental check on herself. And if she reached them, what would she do? What could she do? Drag their statues back to the surface by herself? Bring them back to the academy to keep in her room? Hand them over to the very administration that harbored people who even now sought her own death? Ha. The entire concept was laughably naïve. She angrily splashed at the water, disrupting the still surface and simultaneously stifling the strange sense of disappointment that welled up from within her. Where were these thoughts even coming from? As she forced herself to pull away from the pool, she thought back onto the events of the past few months, on all that had changed. Normalcy, it appeared, was ever evasive for the elder Farron.

It had seemed so simple at first; after defeating Orphan, everyone was successfully reunited. Sad though it was, Vanille and Fang returned to their eternal crystal sleep together. Sahz was reunited with Dahj. Hope was able to return home to his father in Palumpolum. Snow had found Serah again.

And as for Lightning…

It had been bittersweet, that moment on Pulse when they had all come back to life from crystal stasis, and when she saw Serah run into Snow's arms. Nothing could overshadow the joy she had felt—the relief and sheer happiness she had felt at bringing her sister back, the victorious jubilation at having, against all the odds in the world, actually won.

But in the aftermath of that cathartic release she couldn't deny the growing shadow in her mind. It weighed on her ever since that day, plaguing her sleeping dreams and her waking thoughts. It was her most tightly guarded secret, the darkest fear that she hid within herself.

She was being left behind.

It was ironic in a way. For so many years, everything she had done had been to protect Serah. Granted, even she could admit that, especially by the end, she hadn't been doing the best job. In trying to protect both Serah and herself, she had shut out her sister; she had shut out the one person in the entire world that she cared the most about.

And now that she'd finally come to her senses and was trying to mend the damage that years of emotional neglect had inflicted, she found that the very person she was trying to protect no longer needed that protection, or her, anymore. That growing realization made her feel more isolated than ever before. Without someone to protect, without someone or something to work toward, she felt utterly lost. Like an airship drifting without a final destination.

A cruel irony indeed.

_So why_ not _officer academy?_  She had asked herself at the time, almost defensive about it. It would offer her better pay on the long term as well as more opportunities to advance her career. And it would give her a focus for now. She would be too busy during her twenty-one weeks of intensive training to think of anything else. She could figure out what she wanted after that. And she knew that she wouldn't have to worry about Serah—Snow would take care of her from now on.

Lightning stared down at the two crystalline figures again. They rested in a deep slumber now, eternally together, never having to suffer the whirlwinds of change that daily life brought. When she shifted, the light caught the water at such an angle that instead she saw a watery reflection of her own face, splashes of drying blood caked over her pale and serious features.

She couldn't help the bitter resentment that fell in the forefront of her mind now. They'd never even said goodbye.

"Damn you, you cowards."

Her parting words were barely a whisper, but carried around the vaulted crystal chamber as she left, leaving ripples on blue water, where the sleeping figures lay.


	4. Divide

The crystal-diffracted midday sun shone brilliantly on the white sands of Bodhum Beach. All in all, in was a good day for Snow Villiers. He and team NORA had just returned from a successful monster raid coordinated with the one of the Bodhum regiment Guardian Corp squads. Especially with his sister-in-law now many weeks gone at officer training, Amodar liked to split the monster work with Snow and his crew. It just made things easier all around for everyone.

And what better way to celebrate a successful mission then by meeting up with his lovely fiancée and having lunch at Lebreau's café? And that was how he found himself currently, at a broad table, seated with his dearest friends and his best beloved, simply enjoying both the day and each other's company.

Gadot was relating an embarrassing story of Snow's childhood to a giggling Serah, prompting him to wave his hand theatrically and volunteer to grab another pitcher of lemonade for the table in hopes of escaping the retelling. As he filled up the pitcher from behind the bar, a familiar ringing alert emanated from his pocket.

He pulled out his personal comm. device and stopped dead in his tracks at what the caller id told him. It took him another few seconds to gain enough sense to put on his earpiece and answer before the call ended.

"L-Lightning?" he asked, still completely incredulous.

The predictably crisp, cool, and slightly irritated voice answered him, though there was an undertone of something else present, too. "Who else would it be?"

"Uh, sorry, I just, uh, I mean, did you want to talk with Serah?"

"No!" Snow was taken aback by this. But before he could ask why, his soon-to-be sister-in-law continued briskly. "Listen, I don't have time to chit-chat—I'm using an encrypted channel right now. This is important. Is everything okay? Is  _Serah_  okay? Has anything happened?"

His confusion grew at the anxious urgency in Light's tone. He glanced back to the table where Serah still sat, now laughing with everyone else at some joke that Lebreau had made. He took another step farther away from the café and made sure to keep his voice low.

"Everything's been fine here. Serah's doing great. Light, what's going on?"

He heard the slow exhalation of breath on the other line.

"It's nothing, Snow." Yet again, Lightning cut off his thoughts before he could even voice them. "Look, I don't have any more time to talk. Just…look after Serah, okay? Protect her. For me."

His initially response was to state. "You know I will." But Snow caught himself. Well this appeared to be the most obvious thing in the world to him and to his friends, he knew from experience that his sister-in-law was never so easily persuaded by such seemingly care-free utterances.

"I—yes. I promise I will, Light. With my own life if I have to."

The words seemed to do the trick. He heard another sigh through the line, but this time one of relief. "Snow…I…thanks. I have to go now before the encryption breaks. Out."

Then the line went dead.

Holding on to the half-filled pitcher of lemonade, Snow looked back at the table of his friends—his family, really. His vision honed in the petite young woman with the strawberry hair. Serah was the love of his life. He knew this beyond the reason of a doubt. If anyone ever tried to hurt her…the muscles in his jaw clenched hard at the thought, his grip tightening perceptively on the glass pitcher. He had gone through hell once for her. He would do it a thousand times over to keep her safe.

Lightning's nostrils flared as she inhaled. She stared blankly at the white-washed wall of her room for several seconds, analyzing everything twice over. Well, at least her friends were all still safe. She had already contacted Sazh and Hope. Neither of them had been victim to any untoward attacks or plots, and it seemed as though Serah and Snow remained safe as well, at least for the time being. It only mildly eased her worries.

Her friends were obviously safe living as civilians despite the political divide, perhaps, because as citizens, they were more open to the public eye and limelight.

But as a soldier—particularly one who had returned to training—she was removed from society, hidden not only from the public's eye, she now realized, but also a protective eye. If somewhat unfortunate were to happen to her now, who would know? She shivered at the anonymity of her own glaringly possible assassination. No, not just possible anymore, but  _probable._ Yet, she had to remind herself, that death was not a certainty. While there was an undeniable split in the military over her, those who stood against her were still, by all indications, in the minority—and in the shadows. This rang true by her very survival up until now. She had been accepted back into society, back into the Guardian Corp, even into officer training. No, she was safe for the moment. As long as she kept her guard up.

She thought of the private hearings she'd had with both the Academy's Colonel and the recently returned Major-General upon her return from ill-fated expedition. The reactions of the two administrators had been quite different, to say the least. The Major-General, back from his military maneuvers on Gran Pulse, had been more than critical at first, drilling her story over and over. He couldn't seem to believe that such a "slip-up" could so easily occur, or be so painstakingly orchestrated. When the records of the two privates finally convinced him, he assured a full personal inquiry into the matter, but said nothing more besides grounding her to the barracks for the following two weeks in interest of the inquiry.

Colonel Luccic's response, on the contrary, had been on the opposite end of the spectrum. He accepted her story immediately, confessing a concern that such a setup was allowed to occur. He had meticulously filed down the details of her expedition for the military inquiry

That said, her gut feelings on the two chief administrators of the academy were entirely opposed with her logical assessment. She was almost bizarrely wary of Luccic. Despite his helpful, sympathetic demeanor, she couldn't fight of the feeling wariness that ate at her. It was something that put her on edge when she dealt with the man, making her watch his every move as much as her own. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him (which wasn't saying much, considering how distrustful she was of almost everyone)—she had seen him overlooking their classes and operations every now and then, had felt his gaze on her and had willed herself not to turn and look back as his shadow would exit the barracks.

She was also acutely aware that the more field exercises they performed, the more likely there were to be more attempts on her life, or at least her livelihood. Accidents, miscommunications, monsters…those were but a few of the reasonable excuses that could be used for any "misfortunes" that might occur against her. Training had rapidly become a very real life test on her survival skills. And if she was unable to keep those "skills" up…if she dropped her guard…the former l'Cie would fall into a very different eternal sleep than crystal stasis.

Without fail, her thoughts moved back to the crystal pillar that she had happened upon by chance during her field mission. Who would have thought? Of all of the things she could have inadvertently stumbled upon, it would be Fang and Vanille, frozen in their crystal perfection for the ages. Hidden, yet again, right underneath their noses, in the very last place they would look.

For a one rare second, she allowed herself a moment of respite, letting her head fall face-first into the cradle of her hands, as if to shield her potential vulnerability to any would-be voyeur. She considered these her weakest periods, these times when she let down her mask, and never had she let anyone see her in this unguarded state, not even Serah. She had to be strong, but she couldn't help still being human nonetheless.

"I don't have time for this…" she whispered aloud to herself. As if saying it changed anything.

Etro knew that Lightning had experienced more than her far share of strange dreams and nightmares, some of them real ones even in her waking life. The sleeping ones were stressful at times, yes—no matter how old or knowledgeable you grew, terror never dulled the senses—but she had long since learned how to handle them, how to hold them back, how to separate those things, any things, that bothered her from her daily routine of steel-faced composure.

She was Lightning Farron. She was supposed to be a pillar of resolute perfection, driven and as sure of her path and purpose as the rising and setting sun. So why was it that she seemed to be falling apart at the seams so easily now?

The chirping of her clock alarm signaled the end for any such introspective thoughts. Advanced sparring class was starting in ten, so she needed to be on her way. Class was a welcome distraction. Falling quickly back into business, she tucked the troublesome thoughts away into a corner of her mind where she could reexamine them at a later time. She had other things to attend at the moment. With all the collected efficiency that only a soldier could muster, she quickly grabbed her padded training armor and left her quarters, arriving in the training auditorium just as the other trainees began to trickle in.

The buzz of conversation quickly died out when the weapons master marched into the room. He was a right old bastard—Lightning knew his type; he had nothing personal against her or anyone else, but by nature, he was going to do his damnedest to make them squirm and fail. Today was no exception as he surveyed his class of would-be officers and the wall of stocked weapons. When his gaze lingered on Light for a second, she already knew that she was in for it. He had yet to make her fail, but she could tell that he was going to try again today. She let out an inaudible sigh, readying herself for the yell seconds before it came.

"Murdoch! Farron!"

Lightning was already halfway into her padded training armor before he called out weapons. As she fixed the zippers and latches, she took the chance to size up her opponent.

For today, her opponent was a woman—tall, with at least half a foot on Lightning, her shoulder length blond hair currently pulled back into an all-purpose bun for training. Light recalled who was now. Alexi Murdoch—another Guardian Corp recruit, previously stationed at the Gapra Whitewood Outpost. In contrast to Lightning's own coldly serious—some would even say,  _dower_ —personality, Murdoch was always infallibly cheerful and talkative, having tried on multiple occasions to engage Lightning in conversation, much to Lightning's own confusion after multiple rebuttals. She wasn't at the academy to make friends, after all, though it seemed as though that didn't matter to the other trainee.

However, Murdoch's normally smiling face was now intently focused and serious. Weapons class was no laughing matter at the academy, and Lightning had watched the other woman's performance enough times to know that she had been admitted into officer training for a reason. Regardless of what weapons they were each given, this would be a challenging fight.

Lightning had not heard what weapons the drill sergeant had decided on for each of them, so when one of the weapons guards tossed her the stun staff, she felt an anxious chill run through her.

A stun staff was supposed to be a policing tool, not the weapon for an elite military vanguard soldier. Used almost exclusively for riot control, the nearly six-foot long pole was a larger cousin to the standard issue baton that most urban Guardian Corp recruits were first trained with, using the same electrical stun pads on the ends of the pole as with the baton to force aggressors into submission. That said, the pole was also a hell of lot more unwieldy and confusing to use, and almost no one except for the riot squads were trained in the use of them.

This was, Lightning recognized swiftly, precisely why the weapons master had selected it for her. He suspected, with good reason, that she had no prior experience with the stun staff. And he was right. She hadn't.

However, she did have some experience with a hunting spear, courtesy of none other than Fang. While they had been traversing the wilds of Gran Pulse, they had shared a few rare early morning workouts. Fang offering to impart nuggets of her Pulsian hunter's knowledge to Lightning in return for some of Lightning's own Cocoonian soldier's knowledge. Despite being wary at first, it had proven to be worth both their time, limited though it was.

With a curious sense of déjà vu, she abruptly recalled a recent dream of her own, yet another bizarre recollection of those exact past events, of she and Fang, on a plateau of the Archlyte Steppes, crossing blades as Fang taught her how to handle a spear. In her dream, though at first seemingly surprised by Light's interruption her training solitude, Fang led her even further, happily showing her the basics of a launch and a diving slash, her white teeth glittering against her tanned skin in a smile of genuine pleasure. It was uncanny that she remembered it now of all times, though not entirely strange, she reasoned. After all, she was about to use a pole arm weapon.

Lightning walked up to the weapons wall and picked up a stun staff, testing the feel of it. It wasn't quite the same heft or balance as one of Fang's hunting spears, but it was similar enough. The few gruelingly practiced moves that Lightning had picked up many months earlier would have to hold through. She stepped into the sand ring, taking up a guarded position as she faced her opponent. Murdoch followed suit, holding up the stun batons that she had been given for the match.

For a few seconds that seemed to last an eternity, they stared across at each other, muscles clenched and prepared to spring into action.

Then at the drill sergeant's barking yell, they both stepped forward, Lightning quickly pressing an attack. She had to make use of the long reach of the staff and end the fight as quickly as she could. Much to her chagrin, though, Murdoch seemed equally capable in defending and deflecting Lightning's persistent attacks. She gritted her teeth in annoyance when the woman blocked what would have otherwise been a jarringly solid slash. Lightning had to admit, with a sense of grudging respect, that her opponent was deceptively agile given her larger frame.

She continued to press, now starting to exchange blows, though neither landed a single hit. But despite her best efforts, she was gradually losing. The other trainees here were not imbeciles—it took high recommendations to reach officer academy, and usually a certain natural aptitude for strategy. And unfortunately for Lightning, her opponent had obviously deciphered the few moves that she had mastered with the spear.

She was increasingly being forced back into a defensive stance as the stun baton began to attack her guard with greater frequency. Then in a few quick strokes, Murdoch closed the distance by another few feet

"Shit…" Light muttered under her breath. This was bad. Now at such close quarters with her opponent, the longer, heavier staff was completely outmaneuvered by the short baton. Even defense was becoming hard to maintain. She blinked away the drops of sweat from her eyes, rapidly assessing what was clearly becoming a losing battle for her.

If there was one thing she hated, it was losing, especially when she had been setup to do so. She had never been one for this particular mantra in the past, but her experiences of being chased down and persecuted as a l'Cie had changed her outlook: if you were going down, go out in style.

Backing up to give herself what few feet of the sand ring were left to her, she crouched down, coiling her leg muscles like a tightly wound spring. Then, as Murdoch began to advance forward, she launched, perfectly executing the weak-side cutting slash—a move that she had quite literally only ever used in her dreams.

She hated how much longer it took to swing the heavy pole compared to her own light-weight gunblade—just how the hell did people ever have the patience to use spears?—but her nearly superhuman agility made up for where Fang's strength in handling the pole would have surpassed her.

Two loud cracks, the second one noticeably muffled compared to the first, echoed through the chamber as the stun staff broke through the baton's half-formed guard to ram into her opponent's unprotected rib cage. A grunt of pain followed before the woman dropped to her knees, the tip of the stun staff now firmly aimed inches away from her face.

"Yield."

The single cold word that escaped Light's mouth was not a question.

The cease call echoed out from the drill sergeant's mouth, bouncing through the now silent training auditorium. Lightning took another heaving breath before stepping back, tossing the stun staff aside as a medic rushed onto the sand ring.

… _the hell just happened?_  Lightning couldn't stop questioning herself, even as she pulled off the padded armor, staring almost blankly ahead.

For her part, Murdoch rose slowly, shaking off the help of the concerned medic. Much to Light's dismay, the woman walked right up to her, one hand now gingerly pressed to her presumably broken ribs as the other extended out toward Lightning. Her lips were curled upward in what could only be genuine smile. Lightning stared at the hand in confusion; the only person she had ever seen sport such a grin after taking a beating had been, well, Fang.

"Are you going to just stand there or shake my hand?" Murdoch's amused interrupted Light's train of thought.

Lightning looked up into the piercing hazel gaze, finally raising her own hand to let the fellow soldier clasp it in a surprisingly firm handshake. "Dammit, Farron, were you holding out on me there? You threw us all for a loop, my ribs in particular."

"Me too," murmured Light under her breath, earning her a quizzical glance from Murdoch as they exited the sand pit, matching strides with one another.


	5. Conquer

Lightning leaned back from her computer holograph screen, taking off her headphones for a minute and stretching her neck, muscles groaning in protest at forced to hold the same position for so long. She was approximately two and a half hours into the four-hour long written portion of her exit examination from the Eden Guardian Corps Officer Academy. Barring any utter disasters on the test, she would be graduating as an officer and leaving the Academy for good.

With her headphones now off, she could hear the furious clicking of keyboards from other nearby testers. That was the only indication of other life, though, as the high-reaching walls of their testing cubicles effectively isolated them from one another. By divine Etro, did she hate written examinations! Not that Lightning was worried about failing. She was as certain in her knowledge on this exam as much as her skill on her physical tests, but it was just so damn  _boring_. All it amounted to was pure memorization and regurgitation. It didn't give any true indication of how a person would actually perform in a given situation. Nonetheless, she had still committed every last detail and factoid of officer training to heart. She was going to pass every test that they threw at her, and with flying colors.

She idly wondered how those around her were doing on the test. Were they as confident as her? Or were they sweating through each question and answer as the clock ticked down? She thought of Murdoch, and knew there was at least one other person besides herself who was doing fine on the exam.

Since their now well-known and celebrated sparring match, Lightning found, much to her own surprise, that she and Murdoch had become friends of a sort. She respected the other woman's prowess and skill in their shared classes, and it seemed that, despite two broken ribs and Lightning's somewhat cold demeanor, Murdoch enjoyed spending time with her. At the very least, she made an excellent and willing sparring partner for Lightning, and although she would almost never admit it, she enjoyed Murdoch's company and unassuming nature as well.

Strangely, becoming closer with Murdoch had in fact temporarily revived Lightning's half-fool quest to free Vanille and Fang. The Gapra Whitewood Outpost had the most extensive research programs in the entire Guardian Force by far—certainly not as encompassing as PSICOM's programs, but still, it was more than nothing, especially considering how many contacts Murdoch had within the research sector itself. Lightning hadn't been so rash as to actually tell the other woman about her Pulsian companions. No, she hadn't said anything about her ulterior motives. She presented it rather as persistent curiosity about how to explain crystal stasis and the recovery of the former l'Cie from it.

There was a surprising wealth of information Murdoch was able to access for her about crystals, most of it through a technological standpoint. With the Cocoon fal'Cie gone, the mana drive based technology that the vast majority of the floating world had relied on for so many centuries became obsolete. With no fal'Cie, there was no power source. However, an older model of technology—one that had been used almost exclusively by Pulsians before—quickly emerged from the ashes. The general public called it crystal energy. Scientists and engineers called it inductively-coupled static crystal energy. While the original models were fairly crude (they  _were_  several hundred years old), the current technological standards of society were quickly able to begin converting the age old science into forms that were more suitable to the people of Cocoon.

Threading through all of this information to try and find what Lightning was looking for had left Lightning, if not Murdoch as well, with a lasting technical knowledge of crystal power that far exceeded what they had ever needed or wanted to know otherwise.

But after many weeks and countless hours pouring over data and talking with Murdoch's contacts, Lightning hit a dead end. There was simply no data on reversing crystal stasis. Dahj had been the first Coocon l'Cie presumably since the War of Trangressions, and for all that the old legends and war histories talked about the famous battles between the l'Cie of both worlds, there were no records, crystal statues or otherwise, of the Cocoon-based warriors.

_Perhaps_ , Murdoch had mused at one point,  _they all became Cie'th?_

But that didn't make anymore sense than their mysteriously vanished crystal statues. It was as if the l'Cie had fought their war…and then up and vanished without leaving a single clue behind. In the here and now, though, that particular mystery was for another tale. At the end of the day, what it meant was there was no baseline—scientific or historic—for Lightning to work with on how to free Fang and Vanille. In all honesty, Lightning could probably be considered one of the leading living experts on crystal stasis, seeing as how she had escaped from it herself.

_Well, how did you come back?_  Murdoch finally asked.

Lightning had given her a startled look, dredging up what few memories she possessed on the matter. In truth, she had actually been "crystallized" twice, first as a Cie'th, and then in true crystal stasis upon completing their Focus. The first time had been…awful. The last thing she remembered was a feeling of despairing panic as she had fallen to the floor, her brand burning and her muscles twitching, watching monstrous crystals begin erupting from her limbs before everything faded out, fear and anger engulfing her collapsing mind. What had brought her back? She wasn't entirely sure. She remembered a different kind of burning, a feeling of warm, righteous anger against the fal'Cie, and a desire, stronger than ever, to stand together  _with_  her friends, and to triumph. It was as though something had picked her up and given her a second chance to fulfill her Focus.

It was only shortly thereafter that she had gone into her brief crystal stasis. Perhaps it was because her stasis had been so short, but she didn't remember anything from it except for an overall feeling of contentment and soft, blue-white light. So exactly how had she woken back up? To be honest, she remembered a voice that sounded exactly like her own, telling her to awaken. And just like that, she had awoken to the sound of breaking glass as she shed her crystal skin. While Lightning considered herself a particularly pragmatic person, she knew, beyond the reason of a doubt, that the voice had been none other than Etro herself.

But how in the world could she say that to Murdoch? And what would she even think? So instead Lightning had opted to shake her head in response, and the subject was dropped without further question.

There just wasn't any further information on crystal stasis to be found, or at least any that existed was either lost with the Sanctum, or still far beyond the clearance level that even Murdoch's connections could manage to get through. Regardless, there was nothing more to be done. Lightning had neither the time, the resources, nor the knowledge to do anything further to help Fang and Vanille, assuming they even wanted help at all. Or assuming that anything short of the hand of Etro herself could reverse the stasis.

She had, in all honesty, run into a complete and utter dead end.

Luckily for her, the exam didn't expect her to have any answers to those questions either.

In the last few months of their training at the academy, Lightning had gradually found herself taking meals at in the dining hall instead of in the solitude of her room, with a table of other officer recruits who were all too happy to share stories with the former l'Cie and welcome her into their fold. The day after all exams had finished, Lightning found herself there once again, sharing one of her last meals with that circle of individuals who had made her time in training surprisingly more tolerable. It was comforting to know that there were people who didn't either automatically despise her or idolize her, and nice to at least have the semblance of normalcy every now and then.

"So where are you going request deployment, Light?"

Lightning was interrupted from her personal train of thoughts about the questionable content of the cafeteria soup by Murdoch's unexpected question. She set down her spoon and looked up at the curious faces of her fellow soon-to-be officers. They had all stopped their own conversations to wait and listen, eager for her response.

She leaned back into her seat, briefly pondering the question she'd been asked before shrugging her shoulders and picking her spoon back up. "I'll be assigned wherever I'm assigned. As long as I've got a job to do, it doesn't particularly matter to me."

More than a few people looked let down with her less than animated answer, while Murdoch let out a groan of exasperation. "Do you always have to be such an ideal soldier?"

This time she didn't dignify the inane question with a response, raising a querulous eyebrow instead. The original question did beg a point, though. "Also, I wasn't aware that they took any serious consideration into our requests, not with things being as they are."

"Ah, but they do to a certain extent. It's true in any career—a happy worker is a productive worker; and considering that officers have to lead the troops, you want an officer that's going to be relatively happy where he or she is before you put people with guns under their command. As for me, I'll be happy if I can get a spot on Pulse."

A wave of incredulous protest erupted at that statement, with Murdoch vigorously defending her position of wanting to join the Frontier Corps, as the Pulsian Guardian Corps were called.

"Besides," she argued. "Have you seen the starting salary that they're offering for the station at that metropolis, New Paddra? You'd have to make at least Captain-rank in a place like Nautilus before you could even consider getting that kind of pay!"

"Really?" asked Jarl; he was a recruit originally from the Nautilus GC outpost, and judging by his tone, he was also more than a bit skeptical of Murdoch's claim.

Murdoch looked affronted. "I'm not just spouting rumors and nonsense here. One of my former lieutenants moved to Pulse, and he's told me just as much about the pay there. They want _willing_ soldiers to help in the efforts down there. Money just helps to give that much more incentive to join in. And well, who knows beyond that? Based on what Light's said, I think Pulse sounds like a pretty fun place to be."

Several people at their table rolled eyes at the proclamation, while Lightning couldn't help but smile a bit. "I don't know if "fun" is quite the right adjective to use there…maybe something more like "frequent fighting with the wildlife and near-death experiences" is a bit more accurate?"

Murdoch waved off Lightning's response with a casual wave of her hand. "And here I thought you didn't have a single sarcastic bone in your body. But anyway, what I mean is it would be  _exciting_! There's so much that needs to be done on Pulse-side. Cities to built, settlements to protect…that's what we're  _supposed_  to be doing as soldiers. Before the war, my top choice would have been the GC Cavalry hands down, but since that's not really an option anymore, you have to go with the next best thing."

That got a round of nods from the table, Light included. Had the Purge never happened…had none of her now historical events ever transpired…were she to have still considered officer training, she would have never considered PSICOM, for all that they had tried to woo her with offers of pay and promotion. No, there was only one group that the star youth in the GC looked at, and that had been Cid Raines's Cavalry. Flying all across Cocoon on dangerous missions, answering to no one but the Primarch himself; none but the most honorable and talented of GC soldiers were allowed in the Cavalry. But with everything that  _had_  actually happened, what little remained of the Cavalry had been ultimately disbanded in favor of re-fortifying the Pulsian efforts. The word was that they hoped to re-establish a Pulsian Cavalry someday soon, but for the moment, resources were too precious to spend the manpower on a floating unit like that.

There was some more talking over who wanted to go where, but Lightning paid little heed to it. The meal soon concluded, everyone seemingly eager to return to their quarters and fill out their deployment request forms before they were due at the end of the night.

Lightning walked down the silent corridor to enter her room, her boots clicking against the tiled and shining floor, her mind once again deep in thought. She honestly hadn't even really thought about deployment that much—she was used to following orders, and given the situation following the collapse of the Sanctum, she hadn't thought that the upper level administration would really consider the preferences of any newly minted officers. But based on what she had heard, if this was truly not the case, then there were serious considerations to be made.

She couldn't stay in Eden for sure. Within a year, if half the former PSICOM soldiers weren't dead, she knew that she would be. In fact, the farther she got from any of the old PSICOM strongholds, the better it was likely to be for her greater health and welfare.

Many of her fellow graduates were looking at simply returning to their old homes and posts, albeit with a higher paycheck and promotion options. But that wasn't really an option for Light. Bodhum had always been a small military post, with relatively few officers and just enough soldiers to cover the occasional monster raid outside of the town borders. Even with all of the restructuring after the War of Revelations, the BSR hadn't expanded all that much.

Lightning let out a sigh. She knew that Serah would be overjoyed if she returned back to their hometown. But…wasn't the entire reason why she'd left for officer training to begin with was to get away? She wasn't so sure she wanted to go back yet, if ever.

Her eyes scanned over the list of GC outposts across all of Cocoon and Pulse. They settled on a set near the end of the list. Her lips twitched upward in a small smirk as she checked off her top choices, submitting her electronic paperwork before settling in for the night.

Graduation was a quite, private event, filled with only the newly-minted officers and the administration, all seated in the main auditorium as they announced out the graduates. Everyone there graduated the Academy, of course—those who weren't good enough to make the cut had long since been dismissed. The ceremony itself was relatively simple and dull. There was no announcing of any sort of rank, and while this bothered some of her classmates, it made little difference to Lightning. Numbered school ranks meant little beyond the academy walls. Everything that anyone needed to know about her capabilities was faithfully recorded in her record, perhaps a bit too well for her liking. That being said, the one thing she was interested in knowing was what her deployment orders would be. The orders for all the new officers would be waiting for them to pickup at their leisure after graduation.

Lightning felt a tingle of energy run through her at the thought. She was anxious to move on to the next stage, and more than just a bit curious about where she was going to be stationed. She fought down the urge to fidget in her seat, forcing herself to keep still as closing words were said by the Major-General.

"…in the face of adversity, but we will not succumb to despair. Duty and honor have laid the pathway, so it is now up to us to show the fortitude and strength, and to lead our citizens…"

Not surprising. They were still in one of the first classes to graduate since the colonization of Gran Pulse. Terms like "adversity" and "difficult times" couldn't even begin to describe the tasks before them when you considered the centuries-old paranoia and fear that the Sanctum had instilled in Cocoon citizens up until recently. Thankfully, the Major-General kept his remarks short, and with that, Lightning had officially made officer rank in the Guardian Corps. Now she just had to find out exactly where.

There was a reception after the graduation, complete with an endless supply of hors d'oeuvres and champagne and people milling about making pleasant and otherwise superficial conversation. Lightning quickly took the chance to escape down the hallway to the mailroom, where she could expect to pick up her new deployment papers. She was not the only one anxious to receive her orders sooner rather than later.

"Where did you get assigned to, Murdoch?" asked Lightning as she walked up to the other newly-minted officer, genuinely curious to see where she had been placed.

The woman turned around, immediately breaking out into a white-toothed smile of excitement while holding up a paper. "I know plenty of others who wouldn't be even a fraction as excited as I am, but I couldn't have asked for anything better, Light. I'm going to Pulse! I got orders to New Haerii! I can't believe I actually got assigned to one of the new cities on Pulse!"

Lightning couldn't help but laugh at Murdoch's jubilance. "Well, don't get too ahead of yourself—see how much you like it after dealing with all of the Cie'th cleanup I'm sure you'll have down there. And don't forget, it's not Pulse, it's  _Gran_  Pulse."

A remnant lesson of Fang's, that one. And one that Lightning always felt obliged to pass on, as if the hunter was a haunt in Lightning's mind, frowning whenever she heard her homeland's name pronounced incorrectly.

"As you say, ma'm," said Murdoch, giving a mock salute. "Speaking of which,  _officer_ , where are you going to?"

Lightning shrugged her shoulders, letting the other woman follow her as she approached the counter to get her orders. "That's what I'm here to find out."

The desk clerk filed through his stack of envelopes, finally stopping when he found her papers. "Farron. Here you are."

Murdoch edged around, curiosity now quite obvious on her features as Lightning opened the sealed envelope and pulled out her papers, quickly scanning them over. When her ice-blue eyes finally looked up, they were unreadable for all that she wore a small smile.

"Well, well…look at that. I guess they actually do listen to what you put down on your requests."


	6. Memory Astray

It had been many long months since Lightning had last been on Gran Pulse. She thought of the last time—the first time—she had arrived on the vibrant planet.

_Welcome back to hell,_  she thought idly, smirking to herself.

Granted, her re-introduction to the lower world was off to a much better start this time. The captain's voice crackled over the intercom as the airship approached the Oerba landing port.

_"Passengers, please ensure that you are seated and buckled. We will be landing in Oerba shortly."_

For all that most of the other cities that had been resurrected on Gran Pulse were given the addition of "New" into their names, for whatever reason the governmental powers that decided such things kept with the original name of Oerba for the small town only several miles out from the crystal pillar that held Cocoon.

The Oerba that Lightning had first visited had been a ghost town—a decaying city coated with a thick layer crystal dust and filled with the howls of wandering Cie'th. In the time that she had been back on Cocoon, the Guardian Restoration Projects had done more than she could believe.

All of the crystal dust had been swept away. Streets had been repaved, some buildings restored and many more simply built from the ground up. It seemed like construction was everywhere. Almost everyone she saw as they dropped down into the city was military personnel, but the fact that there were even some civilians and residential areas was a vast improvement compared to the Pulse-terrified populous that she had been raised in.

And this was just Oerba, which was, by all accounts, more of a military base than anything else. She had seen the sunlight glinting off of the burgeoning settlements farther out from the shadow of Cocoon. People were acclimating to Gran Pulse, many realizing that there was so much more to life than the floating metropolis of a world that the Sanctum had limited them too. Lightning felt a nervous energy wash through her. She was eager to see just how much had changed and evolved in the once abandoned lake-side town. And though she was loath to admit it, she was also anxious to see how things were being run in the Frontier Corps, and where her place in its network would be.

The airship made an easy landing onto the military port, and the passengers—all of whom were military transfers—quickly disembarked and lined up to get further orders. A resident officer made his way down the line of new soldiers, a data pad in hand as he cross-checked their I.D. chips. Lightning was waiting patiently when the officer stopped in front of her, eyes scanning the datalog file he held in his gloved hands.

"Claire Farron?"

"Sir," she responded curtly, with a sharp salute, uncertain as to why she had been singled out. Was there a problem on her file? Typical.

" _The_  Claire "Lightning" Farron?" he asked his voice disbelieving. "Amodar's l'Cie?"

"Sir," she responded a second time, pointedly ignoring the loud whispers that broke out among the ranks. This whole response was getting old. The soldier signaled to another man, and after the two conferred, he returned, this time bereft of his data pad.

"Please follow me, Officer Farron. The Lieutenant-General would like to see you shortly."

Lightning replied in acquiescence. What else could she say? The officer quickly led her into the main compound, weaving through the newly built corridors until they reached a metallic door flanked by two armed guards. Her escort gave three sharp knocks before the door opened, allowing them into the office.

"Staff Sergeant Corf bringing new arrival officer Claire Farron for the Lieutenant-General."

The staff sergeant exited the office, leaving Lightning alone with her new commanding officer. She saluted toward the chair that still faced away from her, mildly annoyed that the general hadn't turned around yet. Here the man had gone and had her singled out of the arrivals to be brought before him, yet he couldn't even take the extra second to stop his work and actually put his own attention toward her?

"Farron, sir. Reporting for officer duty from training at Eden Academy,  _as requested_. Sir."

The chair finally turned around so that the commander of military operations on Oerba—and indeed for the greater portion of Gran Pulse—could meet Lightning's sharp, bright blue eyes with his own, sea green gaze.

" _R-Rygdea_?" she exclaimed, disbelieving what her eyes clearly showed before her.

"The one and only, Farron. Surprised? Sit down before you do something undignified like faint."

That helped snap her back to herself. Lightning gladly obliged by sitting down, but favored Rygdea with a sour look that made it clear what she thought about her fainting. She quickly composed herself.

"You can hardly blame me. I didn't even know that you were still…" Her voice trailed off at what she was going to say, recalling her own last encounter with the Cavalry.

"Alive?" he finished for her, almost gently. His eyes looked beyond her for a moment, hardening along with his voice. "It takes more than that to kill me. I may not be a l'Cie, but I don't die easily, no matter how much any damn fal'Cie wants it."

The groaning of Sacrifice Cie'th filled her ears as buried memories ghosted to the surface of her mind. She forced them back down, yet again, and made her voice appropriately reproachful.

"Still, all the secrecy? You had to stay in anonymity until the last moment possible?"

"It was worth it if only to see the flabbergasted look on your face when you walked through my office door, Farron. That alone was priceless."

She realized off-handedly that the roguish smile he was now wearing was the first true grin she had seen on his face since entering his office. When she had first met Rygdea while he was still serving on the Lindblum, despite the undeniable gravity if the situation that face them all, he always maintained a wild, carefree attitude, as if ready to go head to head with any challenges life might throw at him. The person in front of her now was a man changed. Gone was easy-going young man who had swaggered through the airship, spouting creative threats against Dysley's Sanctum; instead, that laughter is his eyes had disappeared, replaced by an air of grave seriousness that weighed down on his every movement and action.

He was now much more, she decided, like what Cid had been like. The trials of the war had left their mark on him as surely as any scar. For a long moment, it made her heart ache unexpectedly. Was there no one she knew who had escaped unscathed?

"I've been keeping tabs on you and all of your friends since the Sanctum got canned; I'm glad to see that you're all doing well, but…your two Pulsian companions…Fang, and that friend of hers she kept looking for…I'm sorry they didn't make it out, Farron. I won't waste time saying crap about them dying honorably, I just hope that they stuck it to the fal'Cie with their last breath."

Lightning closed her eyes and leaned back into her chair. Right, he didn't know. "More than that, Rygdea. I'm no savior of Cocoon. That crystal moon out there—our homeland—that was the two of them. Just the two of them."

The former Cavalry officer's chair creaked as he turned to look out his window at Cocoon. A low whistle escaped his lips. "I'll be damned. Pulsians saving our hanging garden of Cocoon. I'll salute to that."

He swirled around again to face Lightning, sensing greater story and the hurt behind her words. "Sorry, I'll move on to business now, before my aide-de-camp barges back in demanding I keep up with paperwork."

Rygdea pulled his computer screen closer typing a few quick strokes to presumably open up her files. True to his word, he immediately fell into a business mode.

"You made things easier for me by requesting Oerba, or I would have had to do some serious fighting with the bureaucrats to get you under my direct command. As it stands, you're here, and your skills and expertise are sorely needed. Between my experience with you before and the recommendations Amodar's sent down the line, I think you're going to be a perfect fit for what I need. So, I'm giving you a starting commendation of First Lieutenant."

If Lightning was at all surprised by this pronouncement, she didn't show it. It was unheard of for an officer as young as her and so fresh out of training to start at any rank higher than Third Lieutenant. Rygdea continued right on with his train of thought, his plans for Lightning obviously already mapped out in his mind.

"…not just standard officer in our security or guard regiment. I'm going to be putting you with the scouts—now don't get put down by the name," he amended quickly interpreting the momentary flaring of her nostrils. "The phrase "scouts" is just more of a verbal shorthand. If anyone constitutes the Frontier Corps, it's the scouts. They're our elite tactical soldiers, working in small sting squads to clear high-end beasts and Cie'th, or to, yes, scout out dangerous or unknown terrain. Pretty much, it's the best job I could ever want, but since I get stuck here doing administrative crud and creating a functional arm of the military,  _you_  are the next best fit to lead my lance corporals and make the Oerba Tactical Scouting Team the jewel of the GC…or at least until I get my Cavalry back up and running in a few years. But at the current moment, the scouts don't have a head commanding officer, and they need one.  _You_ are going to be their CO."

"Me? But I just gradua—"

Rygdea waved away her concerns before she even finished voicing them. "If you're so worried about that then I'll give you a secondary officer title as the commanding officer of the scouts. Let's go with…hmmm…wait for it…I got it! Lieutenant-Commander! That sounds pretty impressive, right?"

She was dumbfounded. "You really just made that up right now? You can't just make up new officer ranks!"

He barked out a laugh. "Course' I can! They gave me free reign to use as much creative license as I want to form the Frontier Corps, particularly the scouts. As long as my boys—and ladies, too, pardon—get the job done, the politic types that keep our funding coming don't give two shits. So Lieutenant-Commander it is for now. Ooohh, maybe I'll upgrade your scout title as you progress in the other normal officer ranks. Yeah, so when you make Captain, then you'll be Captain-Commander…I like this already. Oh, but don't thank me yet! There is, of course, a catch."

This time, she groaned.  _Just great._

"No field work to start off. I'm grounding you for a while yet." Rygdea folded his hands together and leaned forward. "We need your knowledge, Farron. I want every last bit of information on Gran Pulse your memories have to offer, I don't care how stupid you think it is. Geography, terrain, places, creatures, weather, nice sights…anything and everything is game. Even now, our database is so limited that every little bit helps. We are going to pick your brain five times over, and  _then_  maybe I'll let you do some actual soldier work."

Lightning didn't care by now that she was openly gaping at him. She knew this "introductory" period was already going to be absolutely horrible.

"No questions? Good." Rygdea held out a holopad toward Lightning, some various numbers glowing on it. "This will be your starting officer salary—you can expect comparable pay class increases with every promotion. It's not as much as what I'd like to offer, but it should help you get settled in for now."

She looked over the figure. It was over double the amount she would have expected to receive. When she looked back up, she met Rygdea's gaze, his now more strikingly green-colored eyes almost tauntingly daring her to say something back. She swallowed down her pride. A nod was all he got in return from her.

Smiling, he typed a few final notes into his computer interface, and then handed Lightning a small data chip from across his desk. "Head down to the barracks supply shop, and give them this. They'll give you your new uniforms and everything else you'll need until you find a better place to settle here in Oerba.

"You have the remainder of the day to yourself—and before you argue that you're ready to start, just do what I say and take the day off—but I expect you to report the Department of Special Forces and Intelligence at 0600 tomorrow morning. Make sure you get a lot of rest tonight, Farron, you're about to have a long week or two ahead of you. We'll talk more later."

Rygdea finished by flashing Lightning a thumbs-up, presumably her signal that she was dismissed. She bit back the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him in retaliation.  _Why_  did she always get put under CO's who never seemed to care for proper protocol and decorum? Somehow she had the feeling that Rygdea would make Amodar look like the shining example of "politically correct" by comparison. Nonetheless, she still stood and, giving him a smart salute, turned and exited his office, the door whizzing closed behind her. Her solitude lasted for only another bare second, though.

"Pardon me, ma'm, are you Officer Farron?"

Lightning raised a quizzical eyebrow at the soldier standing before her. He was in a full armor suit, helmet included, the occasional dent and gouge testifying to its practical usage. The coloring and style of the armor unit were unlike any standard PSICOM or GC work that she had ever encountered.

"That would be me, yes."

If it was possible, the man stood even straighter, immediately snapping a textbook perfect salute to her.

"Lance Corporal Evitt, standing attention, sir! I was sent to escort you to the barracks, Lieutenant-Commander."

It took Lightning a second longer than she would have liked to retrieve the response befitting of her officer rank—and just how was it that everyone seemed to know everything already?

"At ease, Lance-Corporal. Please, lead the way."

Evitt was Lightning's definition of a professional soldier. Focused and single-minded, he wasn't particularly talkative, but he was an excellent guide for Light, who wanted nothing more than to clear her paperwork and get some sleep. Once she arrived at the barracks, she quickly submitted her data chip to the staff sergeant on duty. She was given keys to her temporary officer's quarters, a new set of field and formal uniforms, and, as per her request, directions to the closest restaurant as well as the military mess hall.

As a sign of her new officer rank, she was also given two new spaulders, one for each shoulder, both with two luminescent red stripes running across them. It felt bizarre wearing the two shoulder guards after over a year of only wearing the one on her left. But she knew she was turning a new leaf in her life. She supposed the new look only served to match it.


	7. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the chapter title would suggest, this chapter is actually a bit of an interlude within the story itself, acting as an outside, stand-alone chapter that has no direct bearing on forthcoming chapters.

_She had long since gotten her own apartment—namely because she was just eager to be out of the standard barracks housing for new arrivals and recruits. Her apartment was simple but functional, everything that she needed it to be. That said, she was interested in buying a plot of land to own for herself, and with the way land was quickly being taken up and developed, she was afraid if she didn't move now, the chance would pass her by. Which was how she found herself before Rygdea, asking for him to forward her next paycheck so that she could put down a starting payment if that much credit was needed._

_"The one on the waterfront in the Historical District, right? Gorgeous view there, if I recall correctly."_

_"Yes, that's it." She was getting mildly annoyed. She just wanted to be done here. Unless… "It's not already been bought up by someone, has it?"_

_"No, no," he responded. "Though I imagine the land will be soon. Bulldozed to build some new modern housing and attract more residents here. But since you're interested in it—"_

_"How much will I need to put down?"_

_"Not necessary—the plot is yours."_

_Lightning's eyes flashed dangerously. Rygdea groaned when he realized how she had taken his words._

_"I don't want any of yours or anyone else's pity money." The statement was made with a deceptively soft voice, bellying the icy anger that lay beneath the surface._

_"Oh, goddamit, Farron, don't insult_ me _by calling it pity money. It's a fraction of what you deserve, if not for all of the hell that you were put through, then for all of the hell that you continue to put yourself through working the hours that you do for the Frontier Corps. And like I said, the area would have been bulldozed anyway. So stop being a prude and just accept a gift when it's given to you."_

* * *

The armored boot of Lightning Farron, Lieutenant-Commander of the Oerba Tactical Scout Team, roughly prodded the massive frame of what was now a very dead humbaba. It was good that Rygdea had sent them out to second the New Haerii T.S.T. in clearing the Chulurian Pass. Once cleared, the canyon passages would provide a direct ground route from the burgeoning metropolis of New Haerii to the cities on Oerba's side of the Taejin Tower rift— _without_  having to navigate the Subterra. Already Atomos' old passageways were steadily being reclaimed by crystal mining operations, making it that much harder for merchants and travelers to make their way through.

The Chulurian Pass had been more than enough work for two well-equipped scout teams, though. Even the Oerba squad, which was already widely considered to produce the most effective and well-trained lance-corporals under her leadership, had suffered fare casualties in the cleanup of the pass, though thankfully no fatalities.

"By Divine Etro herself, Light, I don't know what we would have done without your squad!"

Light turned to meet Alexi Murdoch's gaze. Though her former classmate sounded light-hearted, she caught the serious undertones there as easily as anyone else. This mission would have been a disaster had either squad been operating on their own. Even with their units combined, it had been hard enough. Now that they had cleared the vast majority of the monsters that inhabited the pass, they were able to set up a temporary base camp to handle the injuries that had been incurred while smaller, three-person strike teams had been sent out to finish mapping the web of side passages that defined the gorge.

Murdoch started walked back toward their makeshift medic tent, nodding at Lightning to come with her. Light quickly matched strides with the taller woman.

"Hey, your squad will be staying New Haerii until tomorrow, right? How about I take you out for drinks at my favorite place tonight? My treat—I haven't seen you in what feels like forever, and I can't wait to trade stories about what both of us have been up to."

Lightning was taken aback by the request. She hadn't ever been known for her social outings; it was a facet of her personality that always remained through and through. But Murdoch was, well…Murdoch. And it really did feel like forever since Lightning had been able to sit down and talk with the women. She was marginally surprised to realize how much she looked forward to the opportunity already.

"Alright."

A bright smile broke out across Murdoch's face, making her eyes twinkle in merriment. "Great! I can't wait to show the place and introduce you to—"

Murdoch was cut off when one of the Oerban unit entered base camp by himself and jogged to the two operative commanders. Everyone in the clearing snapped to attention, as if sensing the urgency in the soldier's gait.

"Commander Farron! We've encountered some unknown creature!"

Lightning's hand was already gripping her gunblade hilt. "Where is it? Has it attacked your unit? Casualties?"

"Ma'm, no. Not yet. We think it's a Cie'th of some sort, about a quarter mile south, southwest of here, in one of the side gorges close to New Haerii. I have the men holding their positions currently. Orders? Should I have them pull back?"

"No, I want to check it out."

"As do I," interjected Murdoch. She, too, had her hand on her assault rifle, and had already signaled an escort of three of her lance-corporals over to them. "If it's close to New Haerii, then it's even more of my concern than yours."

They moved out quickly, following the sergeant through the winding ravines until they came close to the area in question. Two soldiers were posted by a rocky outcropping that both hid them and marked a path that led down to a clearing below. One of the soldiers had his rifle flawlessly trained on a target in said clearing. The other soldier turned toward them and raised his hand, giving off two quick signals with his fingers to indicate that they should approach quietly. Lightning and the others kneeled beside the lance-corporal, Lightning using his binoculars to spy down at the target. When she laid eyes on the Cie'th in question, she could have laughed with relief. Murdoch must have seen somewhat of that on her face, and asked.

"Light?"

"Oh…No, no. Everyone at ease. This thing won't harm anyone."

She replaced her weapon back into its holster and walked confidently down to the clearing and up to the "creature". Murdoch strode at her side, confident, but still curious. The other soldiers filed out behind them, also obviously curious, but a bit more cautious than their superiors.

"With all due respect, Commander, what in the Trickster's name is this thing if isn't a Cie'th?"

Lightning nodded her head to her sergeant, understanding his confusion now that they were so close to the bizarre floating crystal figure.

"You're half right, Gibbs. It's a Cie'th stone. It  _used_  to be a Cie'th, but it at some point, even that ended, so it became a stone, still crying out for its focus to be completed by other l'Cie."

"Huh…" Now completely certain that the foreign object posed them no harm, Murdoch approached the Cie'th stone, running a gloved hand over it as she studied the impeccably perfect crystal form with curious eyes. She stepped back after a minute. "Interesting. I've never seen one of these before. What happens to them? I mean, do they just stay here like this?"

Lightning shrugged her shoulders. "As far as I know…at least until someone decides to complete their focus for them. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine. There used to be a lot of these around the Archylte Steppes, but we…ah…we completed all of the ones we could find during the War of Revelations."

The Haerii Scout Captain nodded, satisfied with Light's response. "As long as it's not a danger to our people, then I'm fine with that."

Lightning had meanwhile approached the stone herself, curious to see if she could still communicate with them at all now that she had completed her own focus. She reached out to brush her fingers against the softly luminescent crystal structure, and, without warning the world around her ceased to exist.

Images. Words. Knowledge. The dream of a focus and the frantic cry of its original l'Cie carrier formed a whirlwind in her mind, fragments flying about in a crazed pattern.

The Undying. But not simply one of the few. Vartamuth, the Eternal, the Insatiable. For centuries he has made his home in the Ira Mountains, neither living nor dead, caught between two worlds as he spreads his acrid hatred of all creatures that walk across the blessed Maker's world.

It is too much! Too much to ask of any one person. He is sealed, is that not enough? Madness. No—death. Certain death.

A wave of despair and sorrow overwhelmed her, and then she knew no more.

* * *

_It had become something of a pastime for her, almost a ritual really. Upon finishing a shift, or returning home from a field mission, she would set to work on building the house with whatever daylight there was left before returning home to her own working apartment. It was a tedious and slow-moving task, accomplished week by week, stone by stone. Given their technological capabilities, Rygdea had quickly offered the services of a licensed construction company that could completely build a working complex in a matter of days, but that ran counter to her point. Lightning was never big on sentimental antics, but the plot of land with its decrepit and half-demolished old buildings meant more than simply razing it over and having a contractor build a new look from the ground up. This place deserved more._

_And so, nearly every day, or at least as much as she could spare, she worked to build a new house over the old site. She already had all of the major foundations laid out, so now much of the real work of building would begin. It was a learning experience for her. Doubtless it was also leading to a more eccentric reputation with her among the soldiers. Not that she cared. If anyone truly cared to understand her, then they could actually ask, instead of whispering behind her back when they thought she didn't hear them. And it wasn't as though she worked on it all the time. Some days, she just liked to sit in front of the lake and stare at the calm waters or Cocoon as the orange sky slowly sank and twilight passed over. She wondered what it used to be like here, but she supposed that was something she would never know._

* * *

Lightning opened her eyes to find herself lying in the medical wing of what had to be the New Haerii military complex. Machines beeped close by her bedside as they continued to read her vital stats. Huffing in disgust, she began ripping off the sensors when the footsteps echoed down the hallway.

The chief medic entered her room with Murdoch and several other soldiers in tow. Despite her protest that she felt completely normal, the medic insisted on taking all of her vitals, finally giving a clear when he was satisfied and leaving Murdoch to talk with Lightning in private. Lightning spoke first.

"What exactly happened?" she asked.

"That's what I was going to ask you," replied Murdoch, raising her pale eyebrows. "One moment, you were standing there just fine. The next, you barely touch that Cie'th stone of yours and your entire body went rigid for maybe a fraction of a second, and then you just collapsed to the ground, out cold for the past two hours. Care to share your side of the story?"

Lightning looked out of the window, recalling the mental barrage of disorganized information the stone had thrown at her. She thought very carefully before reaching her decision.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I think we should call Rygdea in before I try to explain it."

To her surprise, Murdoch nodded as if she had expected this. "Good. We already sent him a message while you were still down and out. He should be landing here in about four hours with an escort squad."

Murdoch glanced up at the clock. "And I unfortunately have business that needs attending before that. Sorry, Light. Looks we'll have to wait another day for those drinks I promised you. Your squad's being housed in the north wing. I'll grab you when Lieutenant-General Rygdea's shuttle is approaching."

Lightning felt a small twinge of disappointment in her gut. She would have liked to have gone out with Alexi. Unfortunately, there were now far more pressing issues at hand.

Ready to leave the medical wing as soon as possible, she began changing out of the field armor suit she was still wearing and into standard base clothes. However, her hands froze when the zipper was not even halfway down her torso, disbelief and the beginnings of panic rising in her chest as she gazed at herself. It was back. Her brand was back, fully drawn and for the most part the same frosted white that Fang's had once been. But at the edges of the jagged lines it was as black as the day the tattoo had first been inked upon her skin. Sucking in a deep breath, she forced her mind to be calm. Panic never did anyone good.

_Think, Claire, think._

She had never heard of something like this happening before. Then again, she'd never heard of a Cie'th stone forcibly bestowing its original focus on someone either. She bit down on her lip nervously. As much as hated to admit it, she honestly had no idea what was going on. Looking up at the clock, she considered her options. It was not even after noon yet, and she had several hours until Rygdea arrived. That was enough time for her to get more answers for the meeting, enough time for her to go back to the Cie'th stone and see if it couldn't tell her anything more coherent.

Re-donning her field armor, Lightning exited the medical bay, heading for clearance gate that lead out of the military base rather than the north wing of the barracks. It was easy enough to get a velocycle and leave the compound. Despite being from a different squad, her officer clearance was high enough that the guards on duty, if they even thought anything strange about it, chose to say nothing. In less than a half hour, she was back where she had been earlier in the morning, standing in from of the glowing Cie'th stone, in a back alley of the Chulurian Pass.

The stone looked no different than before—floating in place, an inner light glowing softly from the crystallized figurine. Sighing in exasperation, Lightning placed her hands on the stone for a second time, opening her mind for a potential flood of information to stream into her again.

Instead, she felt the small hairs on the back of her neck stand up as an uncomfortable tingle of energy ran through her body, and realized a second too late what was about to happen. In a flash of blue-white light, her entire body vaporized as the Cie'th stone teleported her away.

Moments later, she was blinking white spots out of her vision as her feet touched down on a new, distinctly harder and colder surface. The blinking also gave her time to swallow down the temporary wave nausea that she exclusively seemed to experience whenever she used Cie'th stones to transport herself. After the first few times Lightning had become violently ill when using the stones, Vanille had reassured the then-rogue soldier that teleportation nausea was a normal condition, just one that only a small fraction of people ever seemed to succumb to. The consistent unpleasantness of teleporting combined with the sheer embarrassment of having even Snow of all people have to hold her hair back on one occasion had thus effectively kept Lightning's use of the Cie'th stones to an absolute minimum. The fact that she had to unexpectedly deal with it now already put everything off to an even worse footing.

After a silent period of close-eyed focusing, Lightning finally opened her eyes to take in her surroundings, the sickness now dissipated.

She stood on the rocky edge of a mountain side, no doubt the one showed to her in the vision by the Cie'th stone before. She was at least several thousand feet above the plains below her, and saw, much to her amazement, the bright metal of buildings of New Haerii and other settlements in the valleys and plains below reflecting the noon-day sun. She could even see the misty outline of Taejin's Tower and Cocoon in the far distance. This was  _not_  good. She twisted back around.

The Cie'th stone that she had been transported to was a weatherworn, half-eroded crystalline rock, only the vague impression of arm and a head left. More importantly, the stone had effectively gone silent; there was no brightly radiant inner light marking it as an active stone for teleportation. It was as though it had done its job of letting her through and had now gone back into hibernation.  _Lovely_.

She was effectively trapped on the mountain, presumably until she finished her task, or failed it. She fought back the urge to touch her brand. It would do no good now. And this Cie'th, however feared it may have been, was a threat to the new inhabitants of Pulse that she could not risk ignoring. A bitterly cold wind roared around the mountain, almost as if it were urging her to follow the path onward. Always pragmatic, Lightning checked that her gunblade was still with her, and began following the ages old path farther up the mountain, only to stop when she noticed something else.

A strange, white substance covered much of the way. Curious, Lightning knelt down, clutching a handful of it to examine more closely.

_Snow?_  The thought ran through her mind dumbly. It was that oaf of a man's namesake.

Lightning knew what snow was—hell, everyone  _knew_  what snow was—but Cocoon was temperate. She'd heard of the fal'Cie artificially creating snow in Eden or Nautilus every once in a while for special occasions or parades, but no one ever just  _happened upon snow!_  Unable to help herself for examining the tiny flakes more closely, Lightning swiftly decided that they were nothing like Snow. She wanted to scoff at the namesake now. Snow was a big, clumsy, lumbering wreck of a man who had no proper sense of manners (though she would grudgingly admit that he was nonetheless a  _good_  man). But this…this snow was light and delicate, and unbelievably beautiful.

And cold, her hand reminded her. This was no time to dawdle about like a child. She shivered as another blast of wind buffeted her, and continued moving quickly up the mountain.

After climbing upward for some time, Lightning rounded a corner of the path, and nearly jumped at the sight before her. Here the path ended before a vast cliff wall of granite cut out of the mountain side, a single entrance marking the way to proceed. But it was not the cave itself that caught Lightning's eye. The rocky mantle above the entrance was covered with a plethora of crystal statues. Men, women, old, young…all transformed into brilliant blue crystal and locked into an eternal sleep. They decorated the sheer cliff wall there like a bizarre, beautiful sculpture, so many to count that they nearly blotted out the granite of the mountain behind them. The cave entrance was also unlike anything she had ever seen as well. A brilliant blue curtain of light covered the entire entry way.  _A seal…to seal away those that have taken the once Cavern of the fal'Cie Solaris._  She frowned at the sudden information that her brain supplied her. Another nugget from the Cie'th stone, no doubt.

Drawing close, she reached out to touch the barrier. The light fluttered against her fingers, as first giving a feeling of strong resistance, but then rapidly relenting, allowing her to push through and step into the cave. Once inside, the barrier shielded her from the wind and the cold the pummeled the mountain outside. The cave was warm, and littered with crystal growth all about the walls, ceilings, and floors, the primarily blue stones providing a minimum glow to light the corridors. It was eerily silent here by the entrance, and she would be lying if she said it didn't unnerve her.

A swarm of Chonchon Cie'th attacked her when she was barely a half-minute's walk into the cave. The flying creatures were more of a nuisance than anything, and Lightning was able to easily dispose of them. After that, she noticed that most of the Cie'th she continued to encounter were far stronger, and usually solitary, though the occasional small movement in the shadowy passages off to her sides indicated the continued presence of the weaker Seekers and Chonchons. It only served to reinforce the sickly feeling of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Cie'th  _never_  shied away from fights in her experience. It didn't matter the strength, the numbers, anything. They were generally mindless beings that attacked anything on site. So why the difference now?

As she continued toward the epicenter of the cavern, she could not help but notice the increasing frequency of crystal statue remains. Usually it was a crystal limb scattered on the floor, or a remnant torso still protruding from a wall. But none of them were whole. And all looked as though they had been violently destroyed.

Finally, Lightning reached a great door. Above the door, words were written in Old Pulsian, but many had been scratched and defaced. Nonetheless, she could still make out the word "Solaris" in the bunch. She swallowed once and the pushed the door open. Lightning Farron did not back down from a fight.

This room marked the back of the cave. It was a large, open room, with high ceilings and more crystal light than anywhere else. There were countless amounts of crystal remains scattered here, and everything seemed covered in a think, crystal dust, including the vast, shattered remnants in the back of what she unequivocally knew to have once been the Pulsian fal'Cie Solaris. A few Cie'th shambled and flew in the far back of the room, all of them well behind a single, solitary figure that sat atop the corpse of Solaris.

Throughout all of her travels and experiences, Lightning had seen quite the range of Cie'th. Flying, walking, shambling…purple, blue, white…both bizarrely captivating and grotesque. But never had she seen any such like Vartamuth. By and far, his was the most humanoid of any Cie'th, even more than what Cid Raines had become. The crystals covered the whole of his form like a second skin, smooth and glossy except for where they streamed off along his major joints into ornate flowing patterns, like some kind of bionic armor. And the color…it was a deep glossy black, like burnished volcanic glass, unbroken except for the single glowing red brand on his right hip—the very source of the crystallization itself. Even his head was a continuous plane of crystal, with only vague indentations for features but no eyes or other orifices to be seen. Despite that, she had no doubt that its full attention was now currently fixed on her.

_Ah,_ a scathing voice rumbled through her head.  _After so many years of silence, the fal'Cie scum have yet again sent forth a champion. Do they really think me so pitifully weak?_

She could have gaped. It  _talked_? And not was it simply babbling, it was talking with a frightening coherency.

He stood up.  _Look at you. A pig readied for the slaughter. Or perhaps for the greater sacrifice?_

He laughed, a cutting, sharp, and cruel sound. It was unnatural, and reminded Lightning of the way that Barthandalus would laugh. She shuddered for a moment, fighting back the memory of the despair the Cie'th stone had felt over its task. What monster was this that stood before her?

_Poor,_ stupid _, little l'Cie. I see your anger. You think yourself a match for me? I sense that you have completed a focus before. But how old are you, little lamb? A score of years? For over seven hundred years I have been locked in this cave. Locked here because even the mighty fal'Cie feared that I would make them follow Solaris if I were free._

_That's right._ The voice was filled with a malicious glee now.  _I slew Solaris myself, and for countless years I was free to counter the fal'Cie reign on the open cities and plains below us._

_Then, in their fear, they sealed me into the accursed cavern, that unholy barrier preventing me or any of my Cie'th army from escaping. They sent l'Cie after l'Cie to me, and each one I took and devoured, each one granting me more strength…but it is not enough!_

With a yell of anger and something else, he moved, faster than Lightning had seen anyone ever move. But he didn't attack her. One hand flew out, snatching a Chonchon from the air before it even had time to evade. The other hand pierced the Chonchon's brand, ripping out a small crystal from within the creature. Bereft of the crystal, the Cie'th petrified and crumbled into crystal ash within seconds, disintegrating through Vartamuth's claw-like fingers. Lightning watched, perplexed as to why he would attack his own kind.

A line suddenly split his face, stretching into a gaping maw complete with sharp, pointed teeth. He then quickly and viciously bit down on the crystal gem, masticating it in what could only be described as an animalistic fashion. He stilled after swallowing, as if savoring the taste of the meal. Lightning realized with revulsion that he was digesting. After a few seconds, a wave of blue light pulsed out from the brand, running across his black form. Once the color had passed through him, a tiny, blade-like crystal abruptly grew out of his head, simply adding on to the mass of growth that was already there.

_It is not enough._ He repeated, his voice significantly more subdued this time.  _Not even my entire army can give me the power I need. But you…you have so much will in you. Even now, you say nothing, but you refuse to stand down. I have not had such a pleasure in many, many years. And you are still l'Cie_

He walked a few steps forward.  _With you, it would be enough. Enough for me to break this frozen prison and set fire to plains below again. Who sent you? Which fal'Cie has given me my salvation? To which one will I give the thanks of death? Was it Titan? No, it could not have been; he never makes l'Cie. What about Averion? No? Tell me, you must tell me!"_

Lightning licked her lips to speak. Her eyes were hard as gems as she responded to the abomination before her. "I slew my maker as well, though it was out of defense and not malice. And in the name of Etro and those I protect, I slew Barthandalus and Orphan, and thus every fal'Cie on Cocoon. So I will tell you this now, Undying. Death comes for everyone, fal'Cie and Cie'th alike, and just as with Anima,  _you_   _don't scare me_."

_Anima's get! You pit viper of the floating moon!_  The voice howled in her head, making her very bones rattle in pain.  _I will pull the heart from your living chest!_

They moved simultaneously. As he tore forward, movingly blindingly fast, Lightning pushed off to her right, dodging the slashing blow from his claws.

_Give it to me!_ He screamed.  _Give it to me now!_

As Lightning evaded another cutting chop from the Cie'th, she countered back, throwing her hand out to cast a powerful thundara spell. The creature shook it off as though she had only flicked water droplets at him. Several more elemental spells and a blast of ruinaga proved only to have the same effect. Lightning shifted her attack and focused on disposing of the other Cie'th that occupied the room while evading Vartamuth and trying to think of a counter strategy. After leveling the playing field so that other Vartamuth remained, she realized that she had only one course of action to use. Casting haste and protect on herself, Lightning drew Omega Weapons and dove headlong into one-on-one physical combat.

Vartamuth possessed an terrifying unnatural strength and speed, even by Cie'th standards. Her only godsend was that he seemed to either scorn or be unable to cast spells. Lightning was able to land multiple blows on her foe, but even a direct strike to his head seemed to do little to faze him. The crystal skin of his was nearly as immune to her physical attacks as it was to magic.

A flurry of stabs and slashes quickly switched the tables on Lightning as the Cie'th pushed her back. She blocked what could have easily been a fatal blow, locking her gunblade in a contest of strength against Vartamuth's claws. He screamed in rage and then slammed his other arm down on hers. Unprepared for the sudden move, her right arm was caught completely taut, her gunblade still locked in its battle. A choked scream escaped her lips when the bone in her arm crunched and snapped under the force of the blow. Never one to stop fighting, though, she instinctively dove to the left as she crumpled, saving herself as he stabbed both arms down toward where her chest had been but a bare second earlier. Now forced to fight entirely left-handed, Lightning knew that if she couldn't manage to end the battle very soon, she would not make it out of this cave alive.

As Vartamuth charged her again, she reacted with a momentary fit of desperation, casting waterga not at the Cie'th itself, but at the cave floor below him. The creature slid on his new footing, his right arm flying up in an attempt to rebalance himself. Lightning dove in, readjusting the grip in her left hand.

Gunblades were peculiar weapons, their primary purpose to be used in close combat with the gun mode as longer-range back-up, allowing for strategic battle. Even so, the blade itself, with its broad, heavy metal, was designed almost exclusively for slashing and cutting attacks. Stabbing and ripostes were awkward at best because of the heft of the blade.

Nonetheless, seeing what was potentially her only opportunity to end the encounter in her favor, Lightning reacted instantaneously, slamming her Omega Weapon point first into Vartamuth's exposed right flank with as much force as she could muster. The blade sunk into his crimson brand, eliciting a death howl that shook the mountain.

He staggered back from her as the blade fell out, a light growing from his brand. It radiated outward, quickly growing almost too bright to bear looking at. When Lightning turned her head to finally shield her eyes, the light seemed to implode inward, a shock wave of air exploding outward in the same motion, causing a wave a crystal dust to erupt like ripples in a pond.

Lightning had to blink a few times to readjust her eyes after the flash-bang of light disappeared. Barely five feet away from her lay her gunblade. Of Vartamuth there was no sign. Instead, seated on the ground was a perfectly spherical crystal, larger than her fist and brilliantly polished a deep black.

The battle now finished, Lightning collapsed against wall of the cave, breathing heavily, and very, very grateful to be alive. A thought crossed her mind, and she scrambled to pull down the neck of her shirt, her heart beating rapidly. It was gone now, just as it had been before. Her brand had disappeared into her skin, no longer permanently inked in place with the mission of a focus to guide it. Relief couldn't even begin to describe how she felt.

When Light ultimately pushed to get back up from the ground, her right arm screamed in agony, reminding her of other things she had yet to take care of. She cradled the arm gently and tried to slow her breathing and heart rate, examining the damage,

The break had been nasty. She'd certainly seen worse in her time, but even so, while the skin hadn't been broken, it was stretched from the jagged edge of one half of her arm bone trying to poke through. She knew the bone had to be at least roughly reset before she could try healing it, though. Gritting her teeth, she laid the injured limb atop a relatively flat-faced boulder several paces away. Sweat beaded on her brow as she braced her elbow against the stone and her free hand against the broken forearm. She was only going to have one chance at this. Giving a mental count to three, she abruptly and forcefully slammed the broken bone back into place. There wasn't even time to cry out before the shock of pain overwhelmed her senses. Her eyes rolled back and she dropped to the floor like a stone.

* * *

_Lightning sat up from where she lay on the dusty cave floor. She flexed her newly healed arm—it was back to normal strength, no problem. With that issue solved, she turned around to reclaim her weapon, and found herself face to face with a friend whom she had not seen in a very long time._

_Odin stood behind her, in his standard, humanoid form. He bent down to grab the two objects on the floor. With one hand, he took Omega Weapon. With the other, he grasped the crystal orb that had been left behind by the Undying. Slowly, almost curiously, he raised that hand to the heavens above. The stone, which had been a perfect black before, glittered and glistened, bright beads of color erupting from beneath its shadowy surface. A large chunk of crystal simple broke off from one side of it, leaving a gaping hole, while larger blades of new crystals suddenly ruptured out of the other untouched areas, tendrils growing even over Odin's hand. Once fully extended into the air, the crystal caught and held the light of the starry night sky above and behind—for, Lightning realized, the cave had been completely replaced the skies of Gran Pulse, and the crystal that was being grasped so tightly in place in those skies was Cocoon itself._

_Lightning tore her gaze away to look back down at Odin, only to find her own azure gaze staring back at her as she—or her obvious doppelganger—held Cocoon aloft_

_"You…" she spoke to herself, her voice almost embarrassingly hoarse._

_The other "Lightning" gave a mischievous smile, and then, with a wink, released Cocoon._

_"NO!"_

_She wanted to dart forward, to save Cocoon; she couldn't stand by and let it fall! But it was as though she was glued into place, unable to move her legs._

_Much to her surprise, when her doppelganger had moved to release the orb, it had not fallen. Instead, her entire body had instantaneously crystallized into a statue, as if to forever hold up the floating world, and the vague outline of a woman—almost like a ghost or a bright shadow, had stepped out of the crystal figure. The apparition walked toward her, the curves of a gentle smile still marking its features. It stopped only when it was toe-to-toe with Lightning, speaking in her voice as it reached out to cover where her brand would lay with its hand._

_"Faith, Claire Farron. Faith. Do not stop believing."_

* * *

When Lightning came to, she was on the ground of the Solaris Cavern, in the exact same spot where she had presumably passed out from re-setting her broken arm. Remembering the injured limb, pain immediately flared back into existence in her mind. Her right arm, though now reset, was still unhealed, and complaining quite loudly about it. The swirling blue energy of a healing spell quickly dissipated that pain. With her arm now back to normal working order, Light mechanically cleaned and then sheathed her weapon into its holster. She tried not to grimace at the blade. The Cie'th crystal armor had been no joke; Omega Weapon's normally lethal edge was littered with chinks and divots across its length. It would require more than a simple polishing to get it back to standard condition.

The black crystal orb was no where to be found, try as she did to find it. Unsettled by that in combination with memories of a passing dream she had while unconscious, she decided to leave quickly.

Her return path through the ancient cavern was markedly uneventful. Perhaps the destruction of the Undying had triggered a similar death to the rest of the Cie'th that had wandered the cavernous vault. Regardless, Lightning had no encounters of any sort as she exited the caves, the muffled echoes of her trek giving her a calming sense of safety this time instead of anxiety.

Outside, more time had passed than what she thought. The orange sun was already rapidly sinking on the horizon line, with stars appearing in the twilight sky. She jogged back down the worn path, eager to remain on mountain no longer than necessary. Without hesitation, she reached out to the now activated Cie'th stone for teleportation. It was time to go home.

* * *

"You bloody fool!" roared Rygdea. "What the hell were you thinking going off on your own? I should court martial you now!"

Never had she witnessed Rygdea so truly angry before, and it took her a few a seconds before she understood why. He had been genuinely worried that she may have died. He knew how dangerous a l'Cie's focus could be, even if it was one received second-hand. And given the shaky condition she had returned in, it spoke volumes of just how close the battle had been.

"I'm sorry."

Rygdea looked at her in shell-shocked silence for a moment. Lightning never apologized so meekly.

"You're  _sor_ —"

"I didn't intend to run away from you on a personal death mission, Rygdea. That's the truth. I didn't understand what was going on, so I went back to the stone hoping I could get more answers before you arrived. I wasn't expecting it to send me on a one way trip to a Cie'th filled crystal cave."

Finally sitting back into his chair, Rygdea allowed Lightning to tell the entire story, beginning from the Cie'th stone in the Chulurian Pass to Lightning's fight against the Undying in the Solaris Cavern. After some consideration, she decided to tell him about her brand temporarily coming back, but not about her dream and the disappearance of the crystal. It even sounded crazy to her when said out loud.

For his part, the Lieutenant-General of the Oerba Frontier Corps looked deeply pensive once the story was finished. "And that was it? Your brand just went away again? Just like that?"

Lightning shrugged helplessly. She was at as much of a loss here as him. Rygdea cursed loudly and viciously.

"Dammit…I don't anyone who can make head or tails of any of this, and it just pisses me off! You said it yourself, Farron, this entire incident breaks every rule that you knew when you were here as a l'Cie. So why the exception now? Was this a one time thing? Or could this happen again? And not just to you; could this happen to anyone? Even with all we've done, we understand so goddamned little!" He made a sound of frustration. Then, schooling his emotions, he turned toward Lightning again. "Did you know that while you were out slaying legendary demons or whatever, there was a Class 3 incident on Cocoon?"

Lightning felt the blood drain from her face. Why hadn't anyone told her anything? What if…Serah…

Rygdea cut off her panic before it could manifest. "Easy there, kiddo. Nothing actually serious happened. In fact, we don't know what happened at all. At about 1750 hours, the entire crystal structure from the base all the way up to the top of Cocoon started pulsing with light. Only lasted for maybe a minute and then stopped. No tremors, no new crystal growth, nothing. Just some light shows, and then back to normal. But what it means…your guess is as good as mine." He shook his head. "Not get out of here. We'll be leaving back to Oerba tomorrow at 0800. And I don't care that your Cie'th adventure today was accidental or not, you're grounded to base duty for the next two weeks, so get ready to catch up on paperwork. That's about all you'll be doing until I clear you again."

Lightning took her leave from her commanding officer. This entire ordeal had left far too many questions in her mind, and just the prospect of paperwork was giving her a sizeable headache. She needed to go find Murdoch, and preferably some heavy drinks for the both of them.


	8. Fortuna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fortuna Impertrix Mundi

First Lieutenant Claire "Lightning" Farron tiredly wiped her sweat-soaked bangs back from her forehead for what felt like the hundredth time that day alone. For the life of her, she would never be able to figure out how it was that the now distant sloping mountains were colder than winter but the dense jungle forest that started at its foothills was hotter than a summer day at Bodhum Beach.

She had long since abandoned the standard Corps uniform in favor of her own garb for this mission. Though hesitant at first, the lance corporals under her had followed suit soon enough, recognizing her wisdom after traveling for only several days in the nearly unbearable humidity. But now, at long last, it seemed as though their reconnaissance mission—already two weeks overdue their original estimated completion date—was finally drawing to a close. The jungle valley to the west, northwest of New Paddra and Oerba had been fairly well mapped out at last.

It had been a tricky mission to undergo. All of their electronic equipment had been useless as soon as they entered into the valley. The jungle seemed to be a localized phenomenon of sorts, producing electromagnetic fields strong enough to easily disrupt any electronic equipment they held on them, including their comm. devices and position locators, turning the reconnaissance in to an old-fashioned scout mission of, literally, drawing out a map.

The one upside of the jungle was that it had a distinct lack of critters compared to most of Pulse. The creatures they encountered were few and far between, although those that they did tended to be of a particularly nasty variety. All in all, Lightning was glad to be leaving this place behind.

As the afternoon faded into evening and the sky began to darken, they finally exited the jungle, making it to one of the Guardian Corp. safe houses just as the stars began to twinkle into life. The safe houses were small fortified way stations, marked and made by and for the Guardian Corp. Each "house" held supplies, computers, beds, showers, weapons, and more—everything and anything a roaming squad would need while travelling on missions.

After entering the safe house, Lightning immediately pulled open her account on the computer, checking to see if anything had come through while she was out. Their original group had consisted of six lance corporals and herself, but when it became readily apparent that the scouting was going to take far longer than predicted, she had sent a team of three of the lance corporals back to update Rygdea. Her account was blank, except for a personal datalog message that had been transferred to this safe house for her.

She pulled up the datalog from the computer, curious as to who had sent her a message. HQ knew that their mission had fallen behind, so she didn't expect any orders yet. Unfortunately, most of the datalog encryption had been degraded by the strong electromagnetic fields generated in the nearby area, leading to only a few complete words for every sentence.

_D…. …..,_

…  _.. th… ….. yo. are…. Do… el on … … tour.. .. on Gr… Pulse. … …. and everyon. ..sures m. that … ar. more tha. ..pable o. ..ndli.. y…self, but I'm …ll …owed to wo…._

_I …. ..at you ar..'t supp…. .o get ba.. unt.. the we.. befo.. my , b.. something very exc….. ..s .ome u.! F… ….. … …ille ca… .. …. crystal … ..s … st this week! D.n't forget! Your bos. .t Oer.a should ..ve alr…. .otten …ssages from E…, but as soon .. … get back ..om wh…ver miss… yo. ..n ….. th. ..xt ….tle back to Coco..._

_Can'. …t to see you!_

_Love,_

_Se..h (and Snow)_

She couldn't help but sneer at the fact that—of  _course_ —Snow's name on the message was the one still intact despite electromagnetic corrosion. After several attempts at reading the message, she gave up. It was too far beyond her help to decipher. She glanced at the time date for the datalog message. It was at least well over a week old. She then re-synched her both her datalog and comm. device to standard time. Shit. Sarah's wedding was in less than a week. Tomorrow night was the bachelorette party, and going by her old schedule, she should have left Pulse and returned home days ago. Things were very behind schedule, and if she continued with the plan to regroup and debrief in New Paddra, she would get thrown at least another two days further behind. Finally making a judgment call, she went over to her remaining three lance corporals. They would rest here at the safe house for the night, and in the morning, while they continued to New Paddra, she would return to Oerba. After dictating who would be in charge of the group and eating a share of rations for dinner, Lightning passed into the deep and restful sleep that comes only after a period of grueling work.

She awoke with the rising sun, before her alarm had even yet to go off. After a quick and methodical restocking of her supply bag from the safe house stores, she bid farewell to her still-drowsy lance corporals and made her way south of the safe house, toward the lazy river inlets that defined the wetlands at the edge of the forest. It would be along the open river banks that she would be most likely to find what she was looking for, or else she was doomed to a long walk back to Oerba.

A few sahagin groups also wandered along the water's edge, but they proved little inconvenience to her and her gunblade. It was only after she had cleared what seemed like a small herd of the aggressive aquatic creatures that the true animal she was looking for showed itself.

The cautious flash of golden feathers through the tree line was the tell tale sign. Lightning waited patiently as a small group of chocobo began to wander out of the forest and toward the clear-running river, now certain of the water's safety thanks to Lightning's blade work.

Within a few minutes, they were splashing contentedly in the clear water and trotting about, with the occasional large bird even coming up to her and nuzzling a beak in her hair as if to say thanks. The underlying intelligence of the chocobo never ceased to amaze her. But she had little time now to just stand and watch the herd. After looking over several times, she chose a large, full grown bird that stood up on the river silt, preening itself.

As she walked up to said bird, the chocobo squawked in greeting, turning its head to the side. Lightning reached into her pack to pull out the fresh prickleberry she had painstakingly picked on her way to the river earlier. She offered the green fruit out in her hands toward the large, yellow avian. Unsurprisingly, this proved to be a good choice. The chocobo walked up to her, bending its head down once to inspect the offering, pulling back up to let out a chirp of what Lightning interpreted as delight before diving back down to happily chomp on the bitter fruit.

Once finished, almost as if it already understood what she was asking for, the chocobo offered its side to her, standing very still and allowing her to quickly mount it in a fluid motion.

Lightning placed her hands on the broad, curved back of her noble steed, adjusting her legs so that they were properly behind the vestigial muscles that joined the wings onto the body of the chocobo. She felt the powerful muscles of the bird shift and ripple beneath her, alert and ready.

"Alright, buddy," she whispered aloud. "Let's get going."

Just a light digging of her heels into the sides of the chocobo rewarded her with another squawk before the bird took off like a velocycle, charging due southeast toward where Oerba lay many miles in the distance.

Though her legs cried out in protest when she finally dismounted outside of the city gates to Oerba, the pain was worth it. There was no other way she could have gotten back to her home base so quickly on foot, and she knew it. She gave the chocobo a parting pat of thanks on the head before walking back into the growing city, ignoring the pins and needles in her thighs as blood rushed back into the disused muscles. She was tired, sore, and mentally drained, but she made a beeline for Rygdea's office, only to find, much to her surprise and disappointment, that he wasn't even there.

His secretary, however, was, and called over Lightning as soon as he saw her.

"Ah, First Lieutenant Farron! Commander Rygdea left days ago for a conference in Eden. He instructed me to give this to you as soon as arrived back, though."

Lightning took the datalog pad from him, opening a typically short and concise message from her commanding officer.

_Farron,_

_Etro knows that of course the mission I give you has to go so far over that it cuts into the leave you were going to take for your sister's wedding. Whenever you get this message, ask the barracks manager for your pass on the next available airship transport back to the Cocoon Vestige Port. I won't have it said that I was the man who ruined Serah's wedding by robbing her of, well, her sister. Now stop reading this and go get on a transport already. And I don't want to hear or see from you for at least a solid month. Go take some time off already._

_Rygdea_

For once, she did need telling twice. She was flying down the hall to barracks to grab her few necessities from her base locker and to get her airship pass as soon as she could.

Nonetheless, by the time she was seated and set in the military transport, the last rays of the setting sun were on the horizon, with half of the mellow orange beams caught and refracted in the giant crystal sphere of Cocoon. Her fingers drummed nervously on her lap as she waited for take off, though she stilled them as soon as she noticed what she was doing.

Perhaps because of how much a part of her still wanted to deny this wedding, she hadn't fully realized just how late she was thanks to her scouting mission. She should have been back in Bodhum Beach four days ago, and now she was going to be lucky if she made tonight's bachelorette party a few hours late. Granted, she had no desire to go to the party itself (though her growling stomach already rued missing the pre-party dinner that was occurring at the given moment), but she detested the gnawing guilt that ate away at her chest even now. She  _did_  want Serah to be happy, more than anything. And the thought that she was inadvertently hurting her yet again, especially because of events that were entirely out of her control this time…well, it hurt Lightning just as much. So she whispered a silent prayer that Rygdea had managed to talk Serah down earlier in the week, and that, despite her own preferences, she would manage to make it to the party in at least some timely manner tonight.

The flight itself was relatively short, and despite her nerves, Lightning even managed to doze off for the main portion of it. The Cocoon Vestige, once a place of destruction and ill-promise for those who were taken up in the Purge, had long since become the main bustling port connection between Cocoon and Pulse. Trains, airships, and all manner of ferries consumed the military and civilian landing pads. From the military port, it was easy enough to get to the central train station and hop aboard one of the outbound trains toward Bodhum. She counted herself lucky to have not missed the current train, else she would have been stuck waiting another hour for the next commuter rail. That said, it was already late. The sun had long since disappeared to be replaced by bright electric lights along the rails and cities.

Keeping with the spirit of how her unbearably long day had gone, she nearly ran from the Bodhum station to Lebreau's Café, slowing down to a walk only once the lighted bar came into sight from the road, the standard sounds and noises of a party floating toward her ears. It had been so long since she had seen Serah. Nearly a year had flown by during which Lightning had thrown herself into her work. She had never been apart from her sister for so long, and part of her could not help but apprehensively wonder how much Serah had changed—and by the same token, how much she herself had changed.

Lightning cautiously entered through the open front door to the bar. Inside it was an aural cacophony of drunken noise and celebration. The distinctive sweet and sour smells of mixed drinks and perfume wafted through the air to hit her sensitive nostrils, making them instinctively flare as they adjusted to the new environment. Women caroused about everywhere with drinks in hand, wearing brightly colored and festive dresses, presumably the newest in style these days.

She recognized many of the faces in the crowd—many were old school-friends of Serah's; there were friends of Team NORA, old childhood friends, and many more. And by default, many of them knew Lightning, as well. So it only took a few moments, while Lightning was trying to mentally readjust herself, for people, despite whatever drunken state they were in, to take notice of her. Her name suddenly resounded across the lips of the crowd, echoing outward to reach those who were in the back of the bar or out on the beach patio. The chatter did not die out, but it significantly quieted as multiple sets of eyes turned on her, allowing Lightning to actually hear the beat of the music in the background.

With so much attention now focused on her, Lightning felt acutely aware of just how out of place she was. Still in her standard base uniform and with her military travel bag hefted over her shoulders, she stood out against the group of revelers more than ever. The uncomfortable attention made her want to fidget, but that was something below a veteran officer, no matter how young she was. Instead, she cleared her throat, preparing to ask for Serah, when the sister in question abruptly bowled through from the patio.

Serah looked at Lightning, and broke into a glistening smile of pure happiness.

"Claire."

She didn't yell her name, she simply said it. And then both sisters were moving, quickly embracing each other in a tight hug that spoke volumes more of just how much they had missed each other. When they parted, people had already moved back to their drinks and to the buzz of conversation and dancing.

"I'm so glad you made it!" babbled Serah excitedly. Lightning took notice of how she had grown out her hair and pinned it up, of how her cheeks had grown leaner as more of her stubborn baby fat finally seemed to have given way to adulthood. Serah had grown more in the past year for certain, but she was still undeniably her little sister. "…Commander Rygdea apologized about the mess up with your mission and said you'd get here as soon as possible, and I got your message but I was afraid you wouldn't be here and everyone was wondering where you were…"

Lightning let the chatter carry on for a minute more before her sisterly instinct finally cut back in over the frenzy of reunion. "Serah…you've been drinking."

It was not really a question. Serah's face wrinkled at the didactic undertone present in Lightning's voice, gaining a petulant quality. "Claire, it's a bachelorette party. And it's  _my_  party. Of course I've been drinking, and I'm old enough to drink now, so can we  _not_  do this again? And since it's my party, I expect to see you drinking, too."

Lightning tried to school her features. Years of looking over Serah made her automatically disapprove, but she also recognized that this was also a losing argument for her. Serah  _was_  technically an adult now. She reminded herself to try and not act like an overbearing older sister during her wedding celebrations. So instead she sighed and let the topic drop as Serah led her to the bar so she could drop her belongings down safely.

She shook her head as Serah wandered back into the crowd, a drink already in her hand. Lebreau was behind the bar, as per usual, and brightened when she saw Lightning. She was, surprisingly, not that drunk.

"Long time no see, eh?" Lighning nodded her head and smiled a bit at the casual greeting. "Will you actually be drinking tonight, or will it be your "regular" again?"

And by "regular" she meant water. Lightning opened her mouth, paused, and then changed her mind. "You know, to get through this, I think I'll need a stiff or two. I'll take your strongest Pulsian aqua vitae."

Lebreau gaped at the change in character, surprised in the best of ways, and then made of face of disgust. "Really? You actually want to drink that stuff...? Psh…your choice."

It was true, Lightning only drank rarely. But being on Pulse (and around Rygdea and Murdoch) had slowly opened her up to enjoying various liquors every now and then. And it was also true that most people had a hard time enjoying the Pulsian-based liquors that had come back into production. Cocoonian wines and drinks were considered delicious by default, with the taste of alcohol so well concealed that they were tremendously easy to drink too much of. Pulsian cocktails, by comparison, had much bolder, stronger flavors, especially when taken straight, leading to a smaller group of appreciative drinkers. Lightning found herself among those few.

Lebreau came back with a small glass of the golden-brown liquor in hand, still shaking her head. She placed it before Lightning, muttering out loud. "And here I thought that they would be the only ones to drink this stuff tonight…"

Lightning quirked her head, both amused and curious. She had to admit, she was not expecting the more genteel friends of Serah here to be sampling Pulsian hard liquors; mixed drinks like Eden's Angels seemed more appropriate for the given setting.

For the second time that night, as she opened her mouth to ask a question, she was interrupted before she could even work her vocal chords.

A high-pitched voice cut through the noise of bar, screaming her name.


	9. The Lion Gate

"Lightning!" screamed an oddly familiar, high-pitched voice. It was one that was elated with jubilation. Nonetheless, Lightning couldn't help her immediate reaction to anyone screaming—too many years of training and tightly wound nerves prevented that. She whipped around in a defensive crouch, hand already far gone from the drink and instinctively reaching for the gunblade that was no longer there.

_Like hell am I ever taking my gunblade off again, party or no_ , was the only thought that irrationally streaked through her mind before she was tackled back by a small mass of bright red hair.

"Lightning! I'm so glad you're finally here! I know Serah said that they said that you were just delayed on a mission but I know how dangerous Gran Pulse can be and you never know what can happen and I got worried that you might be hurt and…"

Vanille continued to babble on even after she had pulled back from the iron-gripped hug that she had enveloped Lightning in.

_Mighty fal'Cie,_ thought Lightning exasperatedly.  _She's as bad as Serah with the run-on sentences. Wait…_

Her brain came screeching to a halt in record time.

_Vanille._

She didn't even realize she had said the Pulsian's name out loud until Vanille ceased talking. "Yes? What is it, Light? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She gave her trademark giggle, and then Lightning knew it was her.

"Wha… _when_ …how did…?"

Vanille's eyes widened to the size of saucers as she realized what Lightning was incoherently attempting to ask, her face becoming serious.

"Oh, Light…didn't you get the message from Serah?"

_Of course. The corroded datalog_ , she thought numbly.

"We were wondering why you never did say anything back," trailed off Vanille, understanding the implied "no" to her previous question.

By all the powers that were, she  _hated_ surprises. Trying to remember that this particular surprise was not directly of Vanille's doing, Lightning tried to push down her defensive reaction of anger and did the only thing she could think of: grabbed her drink and tossed it back. But the liquor, which she normally savored, caught in her throat like vinegar, making her cough and shake violently.

"For a soldier, you sure don't hold your alcohol well," spoke another terribly familiar, teasing voice. Fang stood against the doorframe that led toward the bathroom, one arm braced against the wood near her head, while the other hand rested almost provocatively on her hip. That was the thing about Fang, Lightning realized with a start. She was all leisurely grace combined with the underlying promise of danger, like a razor claw cat dangling on a tree branch.

Lightning stared dumbfounded, until she caught the typical smirk that always curled Fang's mouth upward. That caught the wind of anger she was trying so hard to repress. She was  _not_  in the fucking mood for it today. Her hand curled around the now emptied glass until her knuckles were white.

With a supreme effort, she forced her increasingly violent gaze away from the sari-clad woman to the bar. "Drink. Give me whatever is the strongest."

It was a demand Lebreau was all too happy to oblige. She refilled Lightning's glass immediately. And when Lightning downed that, she refilled it again. Before Lightning could toss her third drink back, a tanned hand covered hers. She looked at that hand; still the same dark skin, shiny scars, and almost bizarrely well manicured nails.

"Not even a hello? I thought we were on better terms than that, Light."

The accented voice was devoid of teasing now, though the tone was still light-hearted. When Lightning still didn't move or say anything, Vanille spoke from the other side of her.

"Fang, she didn't know. She never got Serah's message."

"Ah." Oh, monosyllabic answers, how they said both so much and so little.

Fang sat down on one side of her, and Vanille on the other.

"I'll have what she's having," said Fang to Lebreau, pointing at Lightning's glass. When she got her own drink, she began talking, sipping intermittently. "We came out of stasis about a month ago. Completely out of the blue. We were in Eden still, and it ended up taking about a week before we were able to navigate our way out from our well in Orphan's Cradle and finally encounter some patrolling soldiers."

"Right," interjected Vanille. "And once we did, you don't want to imagine how hard it was to talk our way out."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lightning caught the glint of Fang's white teeth as she smiled. "Right. But turns out, as you apparently know pretty damn well, Rygdea's not only alive, but something of a big shot now, and he was able to get us out of trouble and safely into Bodhum and this guy Amodar's territory. Some feat, huh?"

Vanille picked up again. "But by that point, Rygdea said you were already on a "contact blackout" mission. We had Serah send you a message, but I guess you never got it…"

Finally, she managed to say something back, albeit through gritted teeth. "No."

"Not quite how I would have imagined our reunion, that, but there's only one solution to it, then," said Fang, her voice now decidedly solemn and grave.

That got Lightning's attention. She looked up to truly meet Fang's gaze since arriving. While her face was deadly somber, her eyes still sparkled with warm mirth.

"Drink."

It was both an invitation and a command. She held her glass out. Vanille added her own, and Lightning found herself adding hers, too, almost against her will. The three glasses clinked merrily against each other and then they downed their drinks, the fire of alcohol helping to temporarily burn away the cold walls she had so easily cloaked herself in again.

From there, each drink made its way to her hand and down her throat far more easily than she would have ever allowed were she in a normal state, each one helped stave off the ice, if only for a time. She would have never normally allowed Serah to continue drinking, would have never normally allowed Vanille and Fang to lead her about the bar—a hand on each of her arms—would have never normally allowed herself to become drunk, but for once it was so much easier than having to do or be anything else.

By the time she had regained some proper sense of herself and her sobriety, the bar was closing. Thankfully, it didn't take much searching to come upon her stumbling younger sister.

"Come on, Serah, let's go home."

At first despondent that the party was over, Serah recovered herself—or distracted herself—quickly. "Waaaait! We have to get Vanille and Fang—they're staying with me! And I have to say bye-bye to Lebreau!"

"Okay, okay, they're just right here so let's…" There was no point in finishing her sentence since Serah had already traipsed off to the bar to find Lebreau. Lightning sighed, and half stumbling herself, grabbed the two chatting Pulsians behind her to follow Serah.

Once back at the bar, Lebreau turned toward them, clucking her tongue when her sights moved from Serah onto Lightning, who was still flanked by Vanille and Fang—really, she was half supporting them now more than anything.

"Look at, you, Light," slurred Lebreau, now unquestionably very drunk. "I always…always knew you were holding out on us."

"What?" asked Lightning, her own words still predictably crisp and cool, despite her own number of drinks. What the young bartender was talking about, she had no idea.

Lebreau threw her arms violently up to gesture, making everyone nearby glad that they were not in the "accidental" hitting radius. "Just look at yourself, will you? A pretty girl on each arm! Buniberzei's balls…always knew you were holding out on us…"

As Lebreau turned away to continue her drunken attempts at cleaning the bar, silence prevailed for several long seconds until Serah began giggling with uncontrollable laughter. Vanille soon followed suit, and Fang began laughing uproariously thereafter, much to Lightning's embarrassment.

"'Holding out', huh?" she asked smirking yet again. Lightning threw off her arm, now chagrined. She grabbed up her bag, wobbling as the room spun for an uncomfortable moment. As she was sobering, an appropriate sense of self-horror and frustration was returning. Enough for the night: it was time to go home. She said as much, leading the way back to her childhood house with a furious march, three cackling drunkards in tow.

* * *

When Lightning awoke, she was at first horribly disoriented, unable to get her bearings. It was far later than when she would normally awake—the sun was already streaming through the window curtains—and she was not in her apartment. The panic that comes with not knowing where one is soon dissipated once she recognized her surroundings as the room she had grown up in.

Almost nothing had changed since she was last there nearly a year ago. Serah had obviously kept the room clean from collecting dust, but virtually nothing had been moved or replaced. Her bed still held the same, simple blue comforter, the bookshelf the same standard collection of military training books and various survival guides, and the nightstand the same alarm clock and same framed photo of the last family picture she and Serah had taken with their parents many years ago.

After rummaging through the military bag she had brought with her and the contents of her closet, she found a suitable change of clothing, and, grabbing a towel that had been neatly folded and left on her dresser, made her way to the bathroom. The sound of talking and the smell of food and coffee from downstairs alerted her to the fact that others were already awake and about, and while her stomach gave out a plaintive grumble of hunger, she decided that after grueling hours of travel yesterday, showering took priority.

Only when she emerged fresh and pink-faced from her shower did she make her way down the stairs and to the kitchen. It was rare for her not to be the first person up in the morning, but it seemed as though both Serah and Vanille had beaten her to the punch today. Vanille stood by the stove, obviously the current master chef of the kitchen, while Serah sat at the table, her plate of food already reduced to crumbs with her nursing a cup of coffee.

"Morning," she said over the rim of her cup.

"Morning!" spoke Vanille, chipper as always. "Breakfast?"

"Yeah," mumbled Lightning, grabbing a plate and loading it with a mess of eggs, potatoes, and other items. Her hand hovered over the coffee, and then voting in favor of removing her mild headache, she grabbed a glass of fresh juice instead.

Once she sat down, her eyes narrowed in concern as she looked over her younger sister. Serah looked relatively alright, besides being slightly pale and tired, but Lightning was nonetheless worried considering how much she remembered her sister drinking while at the bar.

"How are you feeling?"

Serah looked up, surprised at first, and then a little sheepish. "I'm  _fine_ , Claire, so stop worrying, okay? It was a bachelorette party, after all." There was a pause. "How are  _you_?"

If anyone could make eating breakfast look like a dismissive gesture, it was Lightning. "Fine, Serah."

"Uh, good. Well then, I know you just got in last night, but there were several things that I'd wanted to take care of today with you…" She trailed off a bit uncertainly. Lightning put her fork down, looking up. Truth be told, it would have been nice to have a day to rest and recover, but that was not what she had returned to Bodhum for.

"That's alright, Serah, I expected as much. What needs to be done today?"

Serah couldn't help but smile at how brusque her sister already was, ready to go through the checklist of necessary items with, well, a military efficiency.

"Today I need to go back to the tailor and get any final adjustments done on the dress, and then we need to drop by the florist again and finalize the floral arrangements for the dinner tables."

As Lightning opened her mouth to speak, the door to the kitchen swung open, and a still slightly bleary-eyed Fang strolled in.

"Blessed Pulse, I'm hungry," she groaned, swiping a bit of free food off of Vanille's plate before the younger woman shooed her toward the stove so she could grab her own. As she grabbed breakfast, she apologized. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?"

"I was just talking with Claire about what needs to be done today."

Fang's brow clouded in momentary confusion at the name. "Claire? Who's Cl—oh! Right, you mean—"

Lightning's quiet glare silenced the entire room. She tolerated Serah still using her name, but she wasn't about to let anyone else start thinking that they could do the same.

"Ah, well, we were going to go to the dress tailor, and then to the florist," continued Serah, tremulously attempting to break the oppressive silence.

Vanille clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh! Can I come?"

"Of course! You have such a good eye with the flowers, too! Fang, are you coming?"

Lightning felt her stomach knot unpleasantly as she waited for the newly awoken woman to give her answer. Fang glanced over, caught her eyes and held them. It was Lightning who turned away first.

"I think I'll go check in on our husband-to-be and see how he's faring after his own night of partying," she spoke slowly.

Serah chimed in. "Alright, then. Tell him we'll see him tonight for dinner. Seven o'clock sharp."

Lightning felt almost guilty at the sense of relief that welled up in her at Fang's response. She felt awkward around the woman, even after drinking together last night, or perhaps especially after last night, unsure of herself and unsure of what to say or how to act. What was there even to say? It was uncomfortable, to say the least. She wished Vanille wasn't coming either, but it seemed as though she and Serah had become fast friends, so hopefully Lightning wouldn't have to converse to much with the younger Pulsian. Her thoughts suddenly wavered as she registered just what Serah had said.

"Wait. What do you mean 'we'?"

Lightning's mood was still a bit sour even by the time they had arrived at the tailor's. A private restaurant dinner between she, Snow, and Serah was not what she wanted on top of the already rough start to her "vacation". She would, of course, swallow her pride and go to dinner; she could appreciate that Serah was marrying Snow, that he was a genuinely good man, and that he made Serah happy, but that didn't mean that Snow made  _her_  happy. He still annoyed her, which is why she tried to limit her interactions with him.

Her mental grumblings finally subsided when Vanille let out a squeal of excitement as Serah tried on her dress. Even Lightning, for all that she hadn't worn a dress since she was child, had to admit that it was beautiful. It was standard white, with a sleeveless, strapless bodice rich in beaded stitching and floral designs, and a long, simple train. The dress was tasteful, elegant, and fit Serah perfectly. It was lovely. But it was only once she had finished the final measurements with the tailor that Lightning realized somewhat was amiss.

Serah and the tailor both turned toward Light, looking expectantly at her. Lightning was not unused to Serah's tactics, and immediately realized that Serah had suckered her in to one thing under the pretense of another.

She looked at Serah, then to the tailor, and then back at Serah.

"No," she said shaking her head. "No. I am not wearing some frou-frou dress. I'm not even a bridesmaid."

"Then what exactly are you going to wear, Claire," asked Serah, sounding exasperated.

Vanille, new to the typical interactions of the Farron sisters when arguing, folded her hands together and watched with scarce-concealed interest as the two sisters "discussed" what Lightning would be wearing to the wedding. Having had more extensive experiences with Light, her initial bet would have been on the older sister; however, the glint in Serah's eye said volumes as well.

"I'm a commissioned officer in the military, Serah! What else would I where to a wedding but my uniform?"

"To your  _own_  wedding, but this is mine."  _Touché._  But the elder Farron would not back down so easily.

"It's called decorum. Do you really think Amodar won't be wearing his formal military dress, too?"  _Counter strike!_ But Serah also took after her sister in her stubbornness, and the years had taught her how to play dirty.

"And what do you think Amodar will say if I ask for his opinion on the matter?"  _Check._

Lightning, recognizing she was being cornered, shot her sister a glare. But Serah sealed her victory. "Please, Claire? For me? I haven't seen you in anything but military clothes in years."

_Check and mate._

Light's furrowed brow smoothed out at this. She didn't want to distress Serah over something as simple as what she would wear. They finally decided on a compromise. Lightning would wear a dress, but would also be allowed her full, formal military jacket to wear over the dress—at least for the wedding ceremony itself. Vanille shook her head in wonder. How the two sisters ever managed…well, who was she to talk? Who knows how she and Fang had managed through all the years?

* * *

Snow cleared his throat nervously as he stood to greet the two Farron sisters and pull their dining chairs out for them. For however much they looked the same, they could have been fire and ice in his opinion. Why was Serah so easy to understand, but Light so, so…not? Underneath everything, he would like to say that he understood the elder Farron better than what even she would admit; it was hard not to understand more of the intrinsic values that drove a person when you embarked on a life and death journey together. He had seen the depth of Lightning's love for her sister, and understood, perhaps now even more than ever, just how much Lightning had sacrificed and given in order to protect and nurture Serah. He also knew that he would never be able to express his gratitude for than in words—he could only do so by continuing to love and protect Serah for her; and hopefully, if not already, Lightning would come to respect him as a worthy equal.

The current look on Lightning's face also reminded him not to get ahead of himself.

Lightning looked…not exactly  _haggard_ , per say, but very worn, as if mentally drained. He also recognized from personal experience how much more caustic she was likely to be if that was the case. Her icy blue eyes underlined that prior experience.

Nonetheless, he knew there were times when a man had to bite the bullet and deal with the potential death trap that was Lightning Farron. And considering that he was going to be marrying said Farron's younger sister and only living relative in less than a week, now was one of those times.

As they ordered food, he cautiously asked Light how her latest Guardian Corp mission had gone. Her response was, swift, brief, and lacked any detail or discussion. Better than getting his head taken off, he supposed. Daring to tread further, he asked about Rygdea. How was the man doing? How in the world were people dealing with having such a rambunctious commanding officer? To his surprise, Lightning actually began to talk, moving beyond monosyllabic retorts and actually discussing the going-ons of Oerba, even asking Snow how things had been faring in Bodhum while she was away.

Serah found a smile insistently tugging at the corners of her mouth as her sister and her fiancé conversed about Claire's work on Gran Pulse. For once, Snow seemed able to ask just all the right questions and make all the right comments to keep Lightning interested and talking. She allowed herself an internal chuckle. For however much Lightning might still bemoan Snow, the two had already become far better than she could have ever imagined even just a year ago. There would be hope for them yet.


	10. Weddings, Et Cetera

Lightning had never seen Serah like this before. She was pacing the short length of the dressing room, stopping every now and then to check her makeup, or her hair, or the nonexistent wrinkles of her wedding gown. Finally exasperated with behavior, Lightning launched herself up from her chair. Despite rarely ever wearing heels, she had no problem marching over to her sister to physically bar her from pacing anymore.

"Serah," she commanded sternly. "Stop it. Your hair looks wonderful, your makeup is perfect, and the tailor did a fantastic job on your dress. You look stunning and this is the day you've been waiting for. Do  _not_  tell me of all people that you're having second thoughts."

This was all accompanied by a light but still forceful shake of the shoulders. Be it the words or the shaking, something did the trick. Serah let out the pent up breath she must have been holding in with a loud whoosh. "I'm sorry, Claire. I'm not having second thoughts, I just feel a little anxious."

Lightning quirked her head, honestly confused.  _I mean, I know brides are normally supposed to get all nervous and have second thoughts before their wedding…but why?_  The logic behind it just never added up to her. If you wanted to marry someone and you finally got to that point, why would you only get nervous then? Of course, speaking those thoughts now wouldn't help her sister at all, so she tried her hand elsewhere.

"Serah, this is the easy part. Surely getting married is easier than when you told me that you and Snow were engaged?" The memory was not by any means a laughing matter for Lightning, but if lightly joking about it would help Serah calm down, she would do it. It seemed to help. Serah laughed softly and her shoulders visibly relaxed.

"I know. I guess I'm being strange. I just don't want anything to go wrong. I keep worrying about things I know won't happen. Like what if Snow changed his mind?" She laughed after saying it out loud, realizing how impossible it sounded.

Lightning choked back a semi-automatic response to it though.  _I'd cut his balls off, is what._  Her morbid thoughts were interrupted when there was a knock on the door, calling for the ceremony to start in a few minutes. She turned back toward Serah as she grabbed her formal military jacket. "Ready?"

"Yes. This is the day I've been waiting for, after all." Serah smiled. She helped smooth the lapels on Lightning's jacket as she put it on. "You look so beautiful in your dress, Claire. Promise you'll take off your officer jacket after the ceremony?"

She brushed Serah's hands away and led her out of the dressing room. "Yes, yes. I promised, didn't I? Now come on, we don't want the bride to be late to her own wedding."

Rather than be the lead bridesmaid, Lightning was taking the role of the bride's lead family member, guiding her to the altar. They waited in position at the back of the building until the music started, progressing slowly down the aisle. Lightning almost winced at the vice grip Serah had on her arm. For all that her sister still looked perfectly composed, her damp and claw-like grip indicated just how nervous she actually was.

Nevertheless, their walk down the aisle was measured and calm, in perfect time with the music and as graceful as ever. Once they reached the foot of the altar, Serah moved away to step up to her place by Snow's side. In accordance with tradition, Lightning bowed her head slightly to Snow and then took her place by the bridesmaids. She stood as still as a statue even while others fidgeted, looking directly at, or almost through, the bride and groom.

As the couple took their long awaited vows, everyone's attention was focused on them, almost. Serah had been distraught that Fang and Vanille would be unable to serve in her wedding as bridesmaids; their return from crystal stasis had occurred too close to the wedding to change plans. Nonetheless, the two Pulsians were given front row seats with which to watch the ceremony itself.

Vanille elbowed Fang sharply in the ribs to get her attention.

"Look at Light," she whispered.

The elder Farron sister had not moved from her spot—she too was watching the vows, her back straight and body as appropriately rigid as only a soldier can seem to manage.

But it was the look on those normally rocky and guarded pale eyes that momentarily cut Fang's breath short. They were swimming with emotion; love, happiness, and pride for her sister, certainly, but also an equally deep pain, a sadness at having to wish a final farewell of sorts. It was as if all of the barriers had been cut back to reveal the still very young, human woman that lay underneath that hard exterior.

In that moment, Fang realized with a sense of awe, "Lightning" was completely ripped away to reveal the person who had long since been hidden away—the woman she was staring at now was Claire Farron. Just Claire.

* * *

The wedding reception was as picture perfect as anyone could imagine. A vast white tent sheltered all of the guests from the fading evening sun, complete with luscious dinner plates and flowing alcohol to keep everyone happy.

As was appropriate, Lightning stood to give a toast and say a few words in honor of the newly wedded couple while the main course was being served. Gadot had been the best man for the wedding, and had spoken just before her. His speech had been neither too long nor too short, and full of anecdotal stories that had just the right amount of humor to make the bride and groom smile even as the guests laughed uproariously. Lightning had to follow to follow his act.

Unbeknownst to anyone, she had spent countless hours agonizing over what to say during her speech. It was not as if public speaking was an Achilles heel for her, but the speeches she gave as a leader and officer just seemed so much clearer in her head than this kind of speaking. Even now she was nervous, but not even Serah could detect a hint of that anxiety as Lightning stood up.

She made her introduction and thanked everyone who was at the wedding. But from there her speech was short. She had debated trying to put in humor or flowery expressions and anecdotes, but that just simply wasn't her, and trying to would have seemed almost contrite. As much as it still pained her, she dedicated a few simple lines to saying the things that were the hardest to admit, even to herself: the truth.

"…anyone who knows both Snow and I knows that the two of us haven't had the closest of relationships." Gadot had made a joke on that before, leading to an unintentional twitter of laughter at her line. "But, whatever issues have troubled us, there's one thing that matters more than any petty feuds of personality. I've seen first hand just how much Snow loves Serah. I've seen how he would go to hell and back for her, and I've seen just how much Serah unquestioningly loves Snow back. That Serah is so happy when she's with Snow…that is all that I, or that any of us, could want. Thank you."

She sat down amidst the applause, steadfastly looking ahead but at no one in particular. Serah reached over to squeeze her hand. Lightning continued to look forward, but she squeezed back.

There were several more speeches given by friends as the dinner courses were served, but after that, the dancing began. Lightning wasn't much of one for dancing, but she had been adamant to take a role in the traditional father-daughter dance after the bride and groom had their first number. She wasn't the father, no, but she was Serah's only family left, and Serah hers. Serah hadn't been certain at first, citing the fact that Snow was an orphan as much as them, and had no person to stand in as his mother. It had, however, been Snow who stood up, almost as uncompromising as Lightning, that Serah take the dance with her older sister. And so here they were, Serah now practically gliding toward her, a calm but radiant smile plastering her features.

As the music began to play, Serah leaned into Lightning. "Thank you so much for everything, Claire. This really has been the best day of my life."

Light gulped down the sudden lump in her throat, blinking unexpectedly.

"Silly," she whispered back. Her voice caught for a moment. "Why are you telling that to me? I'm not Snow."

Serah let out a warm chuckle. "I  _know_  that. It's just…for being here for me now, just as much as before. I know how much you've always looked out for me, and I can never say how much it means, but thank you. I never thought I could be this happy."

Not trusting her voice any further and not wanting to argue her feelings on the last issue, Lightning simply smiled and nodded in response. They finished the remainder of their dance in silence, Lightning holding Serah close to her, feverishly trying to memorize every last detail of her sister. She knew she had no reason to feel like this; nothing was truly changing any more than it had already in the past year. Any yet she could not convince herself that this wasn't an ending of some sort. The moment the song ended and the moment she would let go, Snow would replace her as more than just a dance partner. She hated to admit it, but in the darkest part of her heart, she was afraid that she would be lost to Serah after this.

But it wasn't an endless waltz, and all too soon, their song was finished. Lightning hugged Serah close to her, but then she had to let go as Snow stepped back in, leaving her feeling solitary and lost in more ways than one. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. A rush of scents filled her nostrils: spices, foods, perfume, alcohol, jasmine. When she exhaled, Claire had vanished again, buried and protected in the only way she knew how, beneath Lightning.

The calling of her name broke her mental solitude.

Lightning let loose a smile as Hope approached her, already stammering as he asked for a dance. She stepped up to him fluidly. "Of course, Hope. Shall we?"

He had grown so much in just the past year; he was as tall as her now, gangly and lean, his shoulders just barely beginning to hint through his tuxedo at how much they would fill. His voice had dropped as well, falling into a lower octave that sounded as though it would soon smooth out into a gentle tenor. Lightning followed his steps smoothly, chatting lightly about how life was treating him. He was still living in Palumpolum with his father, and had returned to a fairly normal life, all things considered.

"What do you plan on doing once you finish primary school?" she asked, curious to see what his plans were. His brow furrowed slightly as he thought.

"Uh, I'm not certain yet. I know dad would rather I go to the University, but I've been thinking about joining the Guardian Corps, too." He looked up at Lightning, clearly expectant for her opinion. She mulled over it for a moment.

"Well, there's no rush on the Guardian Corps, Hope. We can always use the help, and if you get more schooling before you join, you'll get a better say in what you'd like to be doing for the Corps, plus you'd probably start at officer rank instead of private. Of course, if the Corps is what you want, you know I'd be happy to put in a recommendation."

"Really?" He asked, even as he grinned. "That means so much. Thank you, thank you!"

"It's fine." She couldn't help but laugh a bit. "We'll catch up more later, Hope."

Her young protégé turned back into the crowd for the next musical number, leaving Lightning shaking her head. He still had much to grow into to, but Hope had already come light years from the lost and scared child who had been unwittingly drawn into the War of Revelations. With her second dance finished, though, Lightning knew she was due for another promised number. She was easily able to find Snow's tall, blond head making its way toward her in the crowd.

"Light!" he nearly yelled as he jogged over to claim his dance with her. His cheeks were glowing red—likely part alcohol, but certainly a large part exuberance as well. Gone was the boyish immaturity that she had always thought characterized him before the Purge. Gone was the only half-hidden tinge of wary fear that would strike his eyes whenever he approached her. This was his long-awaited day now, his shining moment that nothing and no one could dim. It gave him both an unassuming confidence and an infectious joy that for even just a moment made Lightning see everything that Serah had fallen in love with.

His massive hands engulfed hers as he pulled her in close for the dance. She shook herself loose. "Alright, alright, Snow, I'm going to dance with you, take it easy."

He seemed to catch himself then, scratching his head in embarrassment before settling into the dance. "Sorry, Light, I'm just…I can't believe it's really happened. That Serah and I are…"

Lightning made a gruff sound that was held the undertone of amusement to it. "Take it easy. You're—"  _Great Maker_ , she thought to herself.  _I can't even fully believe it either still._  "You two are married. Serah isn't going anywhere."

The leader of Team NORA laughed, a loud, happy sound that rang even over the loud music.

"You're right, of course." He shook his head, then looked back down at her. He was such a big man, he physically dwarfed her just as much as her sister. His face, though still happy, seemed to have sobered. "Light, I know we've always had our differences, but thank you for standing by Serah and I in this."

"You…" She cleared her throat to force the words out. "I meant what I said in my speech, Snow. You make her happy. And…and that's what matters the most."

He nodded solemnly before the grin once again returned to his face. Once they finished out the dance, he enveloped her in an unexpected bear hug, embracing her tightly enough to rip the air from her lungs and then releasing before she had time to either hug back or to punch him away. She muttered the word "idiot" under her breathe, albeit affectionately.

"Well, well, Farron, I have to say, I wasn't sure if your sister would actually manage to get you all dressed up for this wedding or not, but it looks like I'm the one to lose on that bet."

Lightning whirled around toward the source of the familiar old voice. True to her predictions, Amodar was in his full, formal military dress, looking surprisingly natural and at ease in his shining, medal-decorated outfit. Despite his words, he inclined his head and held out his white-gloved hand.

"You look like a vision of the goddess of victory herself, Farron. Lend your old commanding officer a dance, would you?"

Lightning bowed her head in graceful assent and took his hand. She fell into the next dance with ease—having so many consecutive dance partners seemed to be paying off.

"The Corps seems to be treating you well,  _Captain_  Amodar," she said, glancing down at the colorful slew of medals on his lapels. Many were of the highest level of honor a Guardian Corp officer could ever hope to receive.

"Not half as well as it's treating you, if Rygdea's word is anything to go by,  _Lieutenant-Commander_ Farron."

Lightning shook her head, managing to look both properly abashed and smile at the same time. "Point taken, Amodar. Truly though, it is good to see you."

They twirled around in time to the music, Amodar's hand firm about her waist as he guided her in the proper waltz steps. "And, you, Farron. And you."

They continued the steps before Amodar spoke again. "Well?"

"Sir?" She was confused.

He explained himself. "How do you like the Frontier Corps? Don't tell me you miss the BSR."

The last part was said teasingly, but Lightning looked down, feeling unreasonably guilty.

"Farron."

She turned back up to her former CO's gaze.

"I was joking." He sighed. "You were never meant for Bodhum—I knew that more than anyone from the instant I first laid eyes on you. You remember when we first met? You were still in basic training, barely out of primary school. You were in the ring, against this big loaf for sparring; he must have had at least sixty pounds on you, and yet you knocked him out cold in a matter of minutes. I knew immediately, even then, you were meant for bigger things than this sleepy little town on the edge of Cocoon."

She repeated herself, not knowing what else to say. "Sir?"

Amodar gave her one last spin as the song died.

"Just keep carving out your way—I for one want to see where it will take you. Farron." He bowed to her, strangely formal for once, and took his leave, off to find another dance partner. Feeling more than a bit dazed and having far surpassed the quota of dances she expected for the night, she retreated her way to the now predominantly emptied dinner tables.

Lightning moved back toward her table, where her military jacket still lay draped over her chair, and surveyed the party. By this point in time, all but a bare handful of guests had taken up the dance floor, leaving the remainder who chose to either take a break or not dance at all to socialize about the bars or the tables. Vanille was currently dancing with a blushing Hope, Serah was partnered with a jumping Dahj, Snow with Lebreau, and so on and so forth. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the night. As her eyes moved to the guests who had currently removed themselves from the dancing, her gaze happened upon Fang.

Whereas Vanille had eagerly embraced wearing the most current dress style in modern Cocoonian fashion, Fang had, of course, had managed to find a way not to wear a dress, making Light feel slightly chagrined that Serah had suckered her into one. Instead, the huntress was wearing a sari as per usual, and Lightning recalled Serah telling her about the argument Fang had waged on that issue.

_In the Yun clan, Vanille, a woman wears a sari to a formal event. I don't care if the tradition is five hundred years old and practically dead, I'm alive and I'm a Yun and I'll be wearing a sari to Serah and Snow's wedding!_

She could just imagine the fist of victory Fang had held to the skies at the end of that conversation. Granted, the sari she was wearing now was distinctly different than the one she normally wore. For one, the undergarment she wore on her torso—she had called it a  _choli_ —while still skin tight, now covered the whole of her midriff and even had short sleeves that came down on her arms enough to cover her tattoo. It was also a light spring green elaborately embroidered with gold. Her sari was darker green, but possessed that same intricate gold stitching across it, and was much longer and hung about her such that no long slit of leg was revealed like with her hunting gear. Light had to admit, dressed in such silken finery with gold jewelry and lacking her spear, Fang looked exotically elegant and refined all in the same breath.

That image was ruined the minute Fang turned, caught Lightning's gaze, and immediately gave a Cheshire grin and tossed back her glass of wine like it was a shot before moving toward Farron, easily disengaging herself from the other guests she had been talking with.

"I should have known you wouldn't be able to take your eyes of me," teased Fang, flourishing a hand. Lightning would have had a sharp word or two to say back, but then Fang leaned in, grimacing slightly as she whispered. "But honestly, thanks—I was dying to get away from that one guy over there. I think Gadot told him I was available, and he does not seem to take hints well."

Lightning shook her head and turned to look more closely at the young man that had been attempting to engage Fang only minutes earlier, and who was now quite cautiously looking in Fang and Lightning's direction. Whatever the idiot—because all members and friends of NORA were always idiots in Lightning's mind—wanted, he was obviously far to intimidated of the elder Farron to risk intruding in now.

She shook her head. "It's not as though subtly was ever a strong suite with you, Fang. Just tell him off."

"True, true, but I would hate to make a scene at the hero's wedding." Fang smiled and started to lead toward the dance floor. "Well, how about we have a dance then to help keep him off my back, yeah?"

Lightning's face very quickly fell into a disapproving scowl. "Yeah right. Try someone else for solving your problems, Fang. I'm done for the night."

Light turned, already beginning to walk away when she was stopped by a firm and insistent hand grabbing her wrist and a call of "wait". She twisted back around to meet Fang's more serious gaze this time.

"Dance with me," It was halfway between a question and a statement, and oh so very Fang. But then she tempered it unexpectedly. "Please?"

Rather than emitting another scathing denial, she found herself thrown off, strangely bashful. She coughed aloud but stayed nonetheless, speaking a single gruff word. "Alright."

Fang's teeth flashed white against her tanned face, a smile breaking her features. She grabbed Lightning's hand and tugged her away before the other woman could possibly change her mind.

The song that was starting up was upbeat and jovial, and was undoubtedly fun to dance to, but Lightning found it hard to relax. She was almost hyperaware of just how close Fang was to her, of her bronze hands leading her in the dance, and of the rhythmic beat of her breathing. She wondered, briefly, if it was the same for Fang, and felt her stomach suddenly clench as her heartbeat crashed loudly in her ears. Neither spoke for the duration of the song, but when it was over Fang was smiling; it wasn't the smirking, know-it-all grin from before, but a gentle smile of true pleasure.

"Thank you…Light."

Lightning quickly escaped to the tables with other guests for the remainder of the night, but the conversations were bland to her, the wedding cake tasteless, and the rest of the night a blur in her memory. Her mind was preoccupied with disconcerting thoughts. She didn't know what worried her more, the fact that she was deliberately trying to avoid Fang, or the fact that she was doing it because, more than anything, part of her wanted to ask Fang to dance again.


	11. Tidal Patterns

Not even two weeks had yet passed on Snow and Serah's month-long honeymoon to Pulse and Lightning knew she was already going stir-crazy in Bodhum. By some ungodly power, Rygdea had firmly approved a month-long, fully paid vacation for Light, from which she was on strict orders not to end early. While many would appreciate such an extended period of break, Lightning was rapidly finding it impossible to relax. Being "on vacation" was too slow, too…stagnant. She was a person used to being constantly in motion. She needed to be doing something, to be productive. Not to just sit around and "relax".

And everything was, undoubtedly, further compounded and made worse by the fact that she was not house-sitting for Serah by herself.

Vanille and Fang both had made the Farron residence their new, if only temporary, home. This was of course by Serah's invitation, and Lightning was not angry about that, but for some completely inexplicable reason, she was doubly aware that their constant presence served to only fuel her edge—an edge, some distant part of her mind knew, that was becoming increasingly volatile and reactive. She felt as though she was suffocating at times.

The first several days were fine. Lightning was still so busy mentally readjusting herself to the recent changes in her family life that she may as well have been alone for all that there was still company present in the house. But once she had regained enough of her inner bearings, the living situation at hand suddenly seemed to blindside her at the most inopportune times. To be fair, it wasn't as though Fang was rude, or Vanille didn't clean up after herself (though she could be rather grumpy when she first got up in the morning). No, they were, in all honesty, excellent housemates, from cleaning up after themselves to cooking meals for everyone to being generally well-mannered guests. But these rational factors were quickly being buried beneath something else.

Perhaps she didn't want to examine herself and why she felt so threatened by the closeness of her two friends, but regardless, all Lightning was aware of was the fact that being around her former comrades was agitating her.

So Lightning first did what was second nature to her. She tried to escape it. But any path of running away had been equally made inaccessible to her. She couldn't go back to work, since Rygdea's orders had strictly forbidden it ( _damn you, Serah!_ ). She tried her best to get Amodar to let her in on a few assignments, but he, too, staunchly refused. At least he had given her free reign to use the military base facilities and to spar with whoever was willing. The sparring had worked, but only for a short time. Almost to her dismay, Lightning found that there was not a single soldier who could hold their own against her for even half a minute.

In the absence of any truly challenging adversary, she had taken to putting herself against entire squads, and even forcing handicaps on herself to try to even the odds—no magic, wearing weighted training vests, switching to weapons she wasn't fully trained with, even going unarmed. None of it mattered. The sparring was only a distraction at best, and after a few sessions like this, she had no opponents willing to face her on the whole of the base.

And so the agitation built under her skin, until it became impossible to hold back. And the part of her that Serah called Claire got sealed again behind a wall of cold ice as Lightning regained steely control.

It was only a matter of time until things came to a head.

* * *

What the exact deriding comment was that had left her mouth in response to Vanille asking again if she wanted something from the store, not even Lightning was sure of. What was certain was the fact that it was the last straw, for someone at least.

Fang's hand smashed against the wall, turning heads toward where she had just entered the kitchen. Her gaze was thunderous as it flickered first to Vanille before settling on Lightning.

"We need to talk." Watching Lighning's eyes darken at her tone, she continued before a retort could be made. " _Now_."

" _Fine._ "

Fang half waved at Vanille, whose eyes were now wide and frightened. "Vanille, Lightning and I are going for a bit of a walk. Keep charge of the house."

They were able to get about fifty yards from the porch before Fang could no longer control her anger. She rounded on Lightning explosively.

" _What_  is your problem, Light? I've heard stories enough about how you used to treat everyone around you, Serah included, but don't think that I'll roll over and take it from you like everyone else did."

Lightning hissed in a breath. "How  _dare_  you—"

"Oh, spare me the theatrics, already. What the hell did I ever do to you, huh?" asked Fang angrily, barely aware that she was nearly yelling now. But,  _dammit_ , she had had it up to here with Lightning's antics, and to hell with it if she was going to deal with it or her reticence any longer.

"What did  _you_  do?" repeated Lightning. Her voice was not yet at yelling frequency but it still burned with an icy incredulity.

"Yeah," Fang retorted. "What did  _I_  do? Forgive me if I missed out on some cue here, but last I checked, I wasn't the one acting like a manic teenager throwing a temper tantrum. I was only minding my own daily business; I was just trying to get on with my life, while  _you're_  going off the deep end, and  _you're_  the one—"

"You  _lied_!" yelled Lightning, cutting off Fang before she could continue, seeming to shock even herself with the outburst.

"You…you lied! You said—you  _promised_ —that we would all stay together afterward, because we were family, you said!" Lightning yelled, half choking on the words, unable to stop herself now that she had let the trickle of emotion run out in a torrent. "But you lied and you cut us loose instead!"

Whatever retort Fang had been preparing died on her tongue then and there. Lightning may not have always been the easiest of their friends to read, but the current look in her normally impersonal, glacial eyes spoke volumes. The vulnerability, confusion, and defensive anger…just how many times did a person have to be left behind? How many times would they be forced to stand alone before they came to fear—and expect—it from everyone they knew?

"Light…" began Fang. Her voice was warm and inviting, at odds with the tone she had taken only moments earlier. "Claire…c'mere."

Fang reached out, firmly pulling Lightning in and turning her around to envelope the stubborn woman in a tight hug. She ignored the angry protests and flailing attempts to escape, accepting every thrown elbow and every muffled curse directed at her.

She simply held her arms around the whole of Light's body, resting her cheek against the strawberry-blond hair, and talking into her ear.

"I'm sorry, Claire. We didn't want to leave you all. I'm sorry that we went away, but we're back now, okay? We're really back. And we're not going anywhere any time soon."

Fang could feel the full body shiver run down Lightning before her seemingly ever tight muscles finally— _finally_ —relaxed, fully giving into the embrace. Fang just continued to hold her there, running fingers through her hair and drawing circles on her back, and feeling the hot, salty moisture of tears soak into her shoulder. After a time, though, she felt Lightning begin to tense up again as she drew back, now obviously embarrassed at remarkable dip in her normally perfect mask.

Fang let her stumble back and away, ignoring the tear-stained cheeks and red eyes, and instead throwing her arms back behind her head and exhaling melodramatically to catch Light's attention. "Don't think this means I'll be giving you any pity points when we spar, sweetheart."

It had the exact effect she wanted. Two appropriately affronted piercing blue eyes snapped up to grab hers, a pretty scowl marking her face despite the still burning cheeks. Light huffed derisively. "As if I need that to beat you to a pulp."

Fang chuckled happily in response and began slowly leading the way back toward the house. "That's my girl."

As Lightning caught up to match strides, Fang casually threw and arm around her shoulders, and though she spoke lightly, she also spoke in complete seriousness. "Just so you know, Light…Lady Luck help the poor bastard to win Vanille's heart, 'cause I don't think I'll ever want to stop pounding the guy into a flan, no matter how handsome or nice he is. Etro knows it already tears me up something fierce seeing her starting to make her way in the world. I guess part of me will always miss the good old days of just me and her, and me looking out for her."

And that, bless her soul, was the most that Fang ever said about the entire incident. Lightning apologized in a low tone to Vanille when they returned to the house, but neither ever mentioned anything about it, whether in seriousness or in jesting, thereafter.

* * *

Vacation was rapidly drawing to a close, now, with barely a week left before Serah and Snow would be returning home. Then Lightning would be on her way back to Oerba and to work. It was pleasantly surprising to admit that her time off had ultimately been both relaxing and enjoyable, despite whatever reservations she may have initially harbored. She was currently at the beach with her housemates, she and Fang having just arrived from using the GC base for a casual round at the shooting range (Fang's once abysmal gun work had markedly improved) to meet Vanille.

Whereas Fang greedily threw herself down on the sand next to Vanille, closing her eyes and drinking in the afternoon sun. Light lowered herself down at a more leisurely pace, opting to sit rather than lay down.

She let her two friends chat about their day as she enjoyed the cool breeze and the warm air. She didn't frequent the beach, but had to admit that it was nice to enjoy the sand and sea every now and then. Almost against her will, her eyes began to close in pleasure as she tilted her head back, letting Fang tell Vanille about their exploits at the base from earlier in the morning. She forced her eyes back open when she realized the most recent question was being directed toward her.

"Sorry, Vanille, I didn't catch that."

"I said, are you excited to get back to work soon, Light? Serah said you'd never taken a break this long before."

Lightning smiled, thinking of Serah emphatically relating as much to Vanille while preparing for her to come back for the wedding. It had indeed been the longest break she had ever taken since leaving school to join the corps, and it was rapidly drawing to a close. "That's true, and while this was nice, I really am going to be glad to get back to get back to my job. Powers above only know the mess Rygdea will have left for me while I've been gone."

That evoked the respective giggle and snort of laughter she had expected from such a comment. Another thought suddenly crossed her mind.

"So, what are you two going to be doing?" asked Lightning, sitting up so that she could better face the two Pulsians. "I mean, once Serah and Snow get back, Snow will be moving in to the house, and I just imagined that you'd probably want to do something more besides sit around in Bodhum."

Fang made a quiet noise of agreement. "Yeah, while this has been a nice vacation of sorts for us, too, I'd rather not sit on the two lovebirds forever. Both NORA and the GC have been good with giving us some options, but I thought me and Vanille would head back to Gran Pulse, ASAP."

Vanille made a sudden noise, prompting both Lightning as well as Fang to look at her. "R-really? I mean, I thought we could travel a bit first, Fang. Remember, we'd talked about it a while ago…I thought it would be fun to go visit Sazh, or stay with Hope and his father like they had offered…"

This time the snort that escaped Fang's mouth was one of derision. She tossed her head, as if shaking off the idea. "C'mon Vanille, I mean, it was nice of them to offer, but why stay on this Viper's Nest—pardon me, Light—any longer than necessary. You don't need to go stay and visit them for a while just because they offered it. Ah, I can't wait till we get back to Mother Pulse."

Fang was just pulling her hand back to serve as makeshift pillow for her head when Vanille spoke again.

"Actually, I've been talking with Hope's father since the wedding, and he has enough connections with the university in Palumpolum…that…well…I was thinking about going there instead. I would get a chance to take a few classes at the university, and see more of Cocoon, and Mr. Estheim said that I could stay with him and Hope while I decide if that's what I want to do…and…there's enough room for you, too, Fang."

Fang shot up from where she lay, her eyebrows high and surprised, and her voice hard. "And just  _when_  were you planning on getting around to telling me this?"

Vanille looked utterly miserable now. Her eyes dropped to the ground instead of meeting Fang's face. "Oh, Fang…I knew you just wanted to go back to Gran Pulse, and I was afraid that you wouldn't like idea…"

"Wouldn't like the idea? What would have made you think  _that_?" Even Lightning had to wince at the biting sarcasm in her voice. "Not that you're a former Pulse l'Cie or anything, looking to make a home in the bloody  _Viper's Nest_!"

"Fang…"

Feeling supremely awkward even just being present at what was obviously a more private conversation, Light began to slowly extricate herself. "I'm just going to head out and go take care of the grocery shopping. I'll see you guys back home later."

They barely even noticed her leave.

She took considerably longer than necessary while at the store, getting home only as the evening was beginning to set over Cocoon. When she walked up to the house, though, she saw Vanille sitting on the steps of the front porch. To say that she looked downtrodden would have been an understatement.

Lightning set down her bags, concern washing over her as she noticed Vanille's red-rimmed eyes, a tell tale sign that she had been crying recently.

"Vanille, are you alright?" she tempered, sitting down next to the younger woman.

Vanille's brow furrowed sadly as she looked down. "I…I know I should have talked with her before, Light, but I was scared to. Fang's so protective, and I know she just wants to go back to Gran Pulse, and with everything that's happened, I know she wouldn't want me to be on my own, and, and…"

Lightning sighed, wanting to rub her forehead. "I know, Vanille. Believe me, I know. So what have you two decided?"

"I don't know…Fang said she didn't want to talk about it anymore, and left." There was a pause. "Oh, Light…will you please go talk with her? I know she's angry right now, but I want to make sure she's alright."

Vanille had hands clasped plaintively, reminding Lightning all too much of Serah.

"It's okay, Vanille. I was going to talk with her anyway."

Almost to her own surprise, she found her words to be true.

"Thank you! I think she's still down by the dock near Lebreau's café."

Lightning nodded and pocketed her comm. device again before heading back down the path toward the beach. When she reached Lebreau's café, she found Lebreau wiping down the bar top with a rag, only a few regular customers at the café that early in the evening. She nodded to Lightning and then directed her out through the veranda at the dock.

Fang was sitting at the very end of the pier, her legs dangling off toward the water and the sunset. There was a half-emptied bottle of some sort of alcoholic beverage and a glass tumbler resting to the side of her.

Without a word, Lightning walked up beside her. Fang did nothing except to fill up the tumbler and offer it out toward Lightning. When she shook her head in polite denial, Fang shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

The drink was quickly emptied into Fang's mouth. When she went to go for another refill, Lightning decided an intervention was in order and grabbed the bottle away.

"I think you've had more than enough."

Fang shot her a sneer of annoyance. "Thanks,  _mom_."

Light remained unfazed, choosing to shrug instead. Fang looked away back into the sunset, letting silence hang heavy over them. It was Fang who grew uncomfortable and broke it first.

"Well, are you going to start it already? Lecture me, task me, or are you going to try and go the sensitive route? Ask me to talk about my feelings and shit?"

Once again, Lightning shrugged. "That's not how I operate and you know it. If anything, I would spar with you. But in your current state, I'd be lucky if you could hold your own for more than a few seconds. And don't even try to argue with me Fang, since you know I'm right. Besides, I'm here because Vanille asked me to. Not because I'm looking for a sparring partner."

Fang growled something under her breath, too softly to be heard over the rhythmic washing of the waves. Lightning looked onto the deep orange glow of the sunset. Silence had been a longtime friend of hers, and where others might grow uncomfortable with it, she found herself at ease in its presence, content with simply leaning against the pier and letting her eyes run over the picturesque horizon line. She had slowly realized ever since her vacation had begun that she did not, as she had secretly feared, terribly miss Bodhum or her old life. There was certainly a sense of nostalgia that had revisited her upon returning to Bodhum, but it was not mired in regret as she had at one time worried it would be. She could fondly look back on her time spent growing up and working in Bodhum, and still feel content with where she stood in life thus far. It almost made her want to chuckle. Who would have ever thought a few years ago that a straight-laced soldier like her would end up working and living on Pulse, let alone enjoying it?

"Why couldn't she have talked with me earlier instead of springing this on me now?"

Fang's voice broke her meditative reverie. Fang was still staring out at the water, her face a scowl of displeasure.

"I mean, okay, I don't like it either way, but really?"

Lightning raised an eyebrow at Fang to serve as her response. A sigh of exasperation greeted her back.

"Don't give me that look, Light. You of all people should be siding with me."

She cleared her throat. "I  _understand_  your position better, Fang. That doesn't mean I automatically side with you. A year or two ago, I would have…but now…"

Her voice died off. Fang picked up with a sad whisper that barely made it over the waves. "…but now you know better."

There was no response she could say back to that without being redundant. In true form, though, Fang came up with a response of her own.

"GODDAMMIT!" She yelled, chucking the glass tumbler as far as she could out in the ocean.

Only massive self control kept Lightning from jumping at the sudden violent upheaval, though she still found one hand resting tightly on her gunblade hilt.

"Dammit, Fang," she growled. "Lebreau's going to be pissed about the glass…Fang?"

In contrast to the violence of only a moment earlier, the woman now looked about as depressed as Vanille had earlier. Noting the watery glaze to her normally vibrant viridian eyes, Lightning felt a flash of panic run across her.  _Don't cry…oh, Etro, please don't start crying_. Anger she knew how to deal with, but crying? When Serah used to cry it was bad enough, but she hadn't the faintest clue what she would do if Fang started bawling in front of her. Thanfully, that didn't occur. Instead, Fang finally looked up at Light, her eyes still watery but searching. "Tell me true, Light. How was it having to let Serah go?"

Light decided that being blunt was the better option here. "It sucked."

The pent up breath that she had been holding whooshed out of Fang's lungs in a wheezing, self-depreciating laugh. "Ha. Yep. That pretty much sums it up."

Lightning looked down at Fang, a moment of pity overwhelming her as she realized how deflated the woman seemed. "But you know, Fang, it sucked even more when I knew I was hurting her by not letting go."

"Mmm." The nodding confirmed that Fang agreed with that assessment.

Coming to a conclusion of her own, Light shook her head before stooping down to grab Fang by her tattooed bicep and haul her upright.

"Wha..?" For one dangerous moment Fang teetered precariously, and then Lightning threw her arm around her waist, allowing the taller woman to lean her drunken weight against her.

"Come on, Fang. Let's get you home while you still can."

They made their slow way off the pier, with all of the agility and elegance of two participants in a three-legged race. As they walked home, Fang continued to talk.

"What am I gonna do, Light? If…when…Vanille goes…what…what am I…?"

The fumbling, though drunken, was painful for still Light to hear.

"You know…Fang…you can always stay at my place." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could fully stop them. It wasn't that she wanted to take them back—she meant what she had said—she just felt very apprehensive about what the response would be. She of course forgot to factor in that Fang had been drinking.

"Nooo, no, no. I mean, I couldn't, Light. I don't want to invade your space anymore than what I already have. Then you'd probably have to punch me or something."

Lightning wanted to roll her eyes. "I'd do that anyway, you fool," she hissed. Then she coughed politely. "But I mean it. My apartment in Oerba is pretty simple, and I'm not around that much with the Frontier Corp, but you're more than welcome to stay until you figure out what you want."

"Sure, sure…you just try and punch me, Light. I can hold my own, even like this…"

Lightning let Fang ramble on and tried to avoid making any more comments, as they were obviously proving fruitless for any kind of further serious conversation. By the time they reached home, Lightning was more than glad to accept Vanille's help in transferring the profusely apologetic Fang off her tingling shoulder. As she watched the two Pulsians curl up against each other and whisper softly, she felt a smile tug at her face. She softly padded back toward her room, leaving them to make their amends in private.

* * *

Fang woke up on the couch, more than slightly disoriented as she could have sworn she had gone to sleep in a bed. When she wandered her way to finally make it into the kitchen (where both Lightning and Vanille had clearly been awake for some time), Vanille explained, while automatically handing her fresh juice for the hangover, that she had been exiled to the couch overnight for excessive drunken snoring. She planted herself at the table while Vanille served her a heaping plate of steaming eggs and sausage, and guiltily wondered through her headache how she had managed to be as difficult and insensitive toward a person as genuinely caring as Vanille

After a few minutes, she looked up over her glass of juice toward where Lightning sat, her legs primly crossed as she watched the news. By the Trickster himself, did her head hurt! Even so, she powered through the headache.

"Hey, Light."

Lightning made a noncommittal sound which Fang took as indicator to continue. "About Oerba, and what you said yesterday…"

Now Light's attention was taken. She turned fully around to look at Fang.

"…if the offer really does stand, I think I'll take you up on it."


	12. King of the Castle

The train had already pulled into Bodhum station, but they still had a few more minutes before it was going to leave. In the space of that time, they wished their goodbyes.

"Fang," said Snow, holding his massive arms out for a parting bear hug, grinning happily.

She grinned back. "C'mere, you great, big beast of a man!"

He very nearly squeezed the air from her lungs, though she tried to do the same back.

"I'll miss having you around, Fang. And I'm sure the rest of Team NORA will, too."

"Eh, they'll be fine without me. As will you. You've got a wife to keep you busy now, huh?"

She elbowed him in the ribs, to which he grinned back sheepishly.

She moved onto Serah, the miniature version of Lightning in her mind.

The time they had spent with Serah in the few weeks before Lightning had returned for the wedding had been…enlightening, to say the least. Fang was not entirely sure what she had expected of the younger Farron. She never had the benefit of ever actually meeting Serah face-to-face before the fall of the Sanctum (while the young woman had been conscious at least). All she knew was what she had heard through Snow, Lightning, and even Vanille. This younger, shorter, more petite image of the Farron she had fought alongside was the entire motivation behind both Snow and Lightning fulfilling their focus. Serah was to Lightning what Vanille had always been to her.

So second-hand stories irrespective, she had been more than a tad bit curious to find out what the real Serah Farron was like. She had been everything Fang expected and so much more. The same strawberry-wheat hair, the same pale skin, the same unforgettably bright blue eyes…all of the base physical characteristics that screamed a direct blood relation between the two, and yet that is where many similarities—as even Lightning herself had once admitted—ended. A smile and a twinkling eye where the other held tight lips and a piercing glare, a kind voice and gentle word instead of a hard tone and an angry command. She had been mildly surprised at how excited Serah was to meet her.

_"Claire told me so many stories about you!" she had burst out excitedly._

It had been one of the first things Serah had told her, after just barely meeting.

_"I know she probably wouldn't want me saying this, but I am her sister. I like to think that I still know Cla-Light better than most people."_ Fang had looked at Serah, surprised. Serah had been more than welcoming and friendly, from having her and Vanille stay at the house, to letting them help out with the wedding, but Fang was not expecting the bride-to-be to start confiding anything in her, of all people.  _"I'm sure she'll be glad to see you, Fang. She never said it, but…I could tell. She missed you, more that what she'll ever say."_

Fang had swallowed down the information, unsure of what to do or make of it at the time. She remembered the dreams, clear as day. They had been shared dreams with Lightning—Fang in her crystal sleep, and Lightning in her true sleep. It had startled her badly the first time she had encountered the real Lightning while in her crystal stasis dreams. She had experienced shared dreams among the crystallized—in fact, most of her dream world was exclusively her  _and_  Vanille—but never had she heard of connecting with the living until she met Lightning, the true one, in her crystal dreams. Again. And again, and again.

It hadn't taken much math work after talking to Serah to pinpoint the timeline for all of the coinciding dreams to when Lightning had been stationed in Eden for training. It made some sort of logical validation, when she thought about it. The close proximity may have opened a subconscious gateway that would have otherwise been closed. But Vanille had never mentioned any such encounters with Lightning, and so Fang had never told her the whole of it. After all, she wasn't sure what to make of it on her own. Why the connection between just the two of them chose to manifest itself, she just didn't know. And though she remembered the encounters, often framed in dreamscapes of past memories and occurrences, Lightning never mentioned even the faintest reference to them since they had been reunited, and so Fang decided to file it away in the back of her mind.

Nonetheless it rose to the forefront of her thoughts now more than ever, as she was about to embark on, what felt to her, like a new page in her life—going "home" to Oerba, but following in step behind Lightning, while Vanille remained behind. It still caused her chest to ache something fierce when she thought of what was really happening: that Van, her sweet, kind-hearted little sister, was choosing to stay in Cocoon. She had gone through hell and back not once, but twice, for Vanille's sake, and now they were parting ways. It wasn't the end, she knew, but it was hard not to help feeling like that to a certain extent. But yet at the same instance, she was moving on to something excitingly different herself. She risked a glance at Lightning from the corner of her eye as the young officer said her good byes to Vanille and Snow. Fang knew that she could never personally be happy trying to make a life in Palumpolum, even if it was with and for Vanille. And while she knew she was more than capable of trying to restart her past life back on Gran Pulse single-handedly, the prospect of determining the next steps forward with Lighning at her side…she felt her senses—as they had so much more frequently as of late—seem to become hyperaware of the soldier, and not in an unpleasant way. She was eager to see where the unspoken connection she felt with Light would lead her.

Serah pulled her into a warm hug, which she returned with equal warmth, glad not to feel like she was in a vice grip after Snow.

"It was great being here, Serah. Thanks again for everything."

However, when she went to pull away, the young Ms. Villiers kept her pulled close.

"I know she only ever worries about me, but…look after Claire. Please take care of her, Fang."

Serah's eyes were intent as she let Fang straighten back and re-shoulder her bag. "I think your sister knows how to take care of herself pretty well," she said, grinning. Then she schooled her features into a more serious form. "…but I will, Serah. I can promise you that."

Then she stepped back to make her final, and hardest, farewells to Vanille, while Lightning did the same with Serah.

She and Vanille had come to some measure of peace over their parting of ways that was to happen starting today. It wasn't to say as though Fang was anywhere close to happy with it, but she was starting to accept it.

"Fang…" began Vanille, her beryl eyes looking serious. Too serious, Fang decided. Vanille was a light-hearted and happy girl by nature. Fang hated seeing her as anything but that, and would hate herself if she were the continued cause of it.

She grabbed her sister and held her close. "You…you be safe, Van. And call me, or I'll call you. And if anyone troubles you, you better tell me. I promise to beat them back into the War of Transgressions."

She felt more than heard Vanille chuckle into her shoulder. "You'd do all of that anyway, Fang."

She would, but that didn't matter.

"And we'll see each other soon anyway, Fang. Let me know how Oerba is, and try not to drive Lightning too mad?"

"Yes to the first, no promises on the second. You know me."

Lightning, having separated from Serah, let Fang and Vanille go uninterrupted for another few seconds before coughing as politely as she could manage.

"Fang, we need to go now if we want to make the train. It won't keep waiting much longer."

She reluctantly pulled away from Vanille, giving one last affectionate ruffling of her hair. "I love you, Vanille."

"I love you, too, Fang. Have fun back in Pulse!"

Fang nodded and put a smile back onto her face as she turned back toward Snow and Serah.

"Alright, lovebirds, take care! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Lightning cuffed her roughly on the arm. A love tap, by Fang's definition. Then before the elder Farron could get anymore violent or upset, she shouldered her bag and took off at a brisk pace, forcing Lightning to walk quickly in order to catch up with her. They had a train to catch, after all. It was time to head back to Oerba.

* * *

They stepped out of the small airship transporter and out onto the windy landing pad of the Oerba military base. An escort of three fully armored foot soldiers came up to them immediately, the leader yelling so that he could be heard over the still-active ship engines.

"TST Corporal Evitt, ser! Accompanied by Lance-Corporal Hue and Lance-Corporal Vicas!"

All three soldiers stood rigid, giving perfect, in-time salutes directed toward Lightning. She hefted her bag to the side, returning the salute. "At ease, Corporal, Lancers."

Though they all wore helmets, Fang could hear the genuine pleasure in the corporal's voice. "Begging your pardon, TST Commander, I hope you had a good vacation, but it's good to have you back here."

Light smiled unashamedly at the boldfaced comment, momentarily taking Fang's breath away. Rarely did the stone-faced woman ever smile so freely, but when she did, it broke the walls of her cold demeanor like a brilliant sun rise after the longest night.  _She should smile like that more._

"And it's good to be back, Evitt."

The corporal—Evitt—turned somewhat curiously toward Fang, and realizing what he was about to ask she fumbled to find her ID papers that Amodar had given her for the military transport. But before she could even grab them out of her bag, Lightning answered the unspoken questions.

"Corporal Evitt, this is Fang, Oerba Yun Fang. She is a close friend of both mine and Commander Rygdea's, and will probably be around the base more in the future. Do you understand?"

This time, it was Fang who turned curiously toward Lightning as Evitt and his two lance-corporals nodded first to Lightning—which she expected—but then also to Fang. It wasn't a statutory nod either, but one of sincere deference.

_Ah, the military life_ , she thought briefly.  _I'll never understand it, but obviously Light here must be a big enough deal if she can just say the word and they won't even bat an eyelash at me anymore._

She didn't have too much time to ponder it as their few luggage pieces were taken from them (to be delivered to Lightning's apartment ahead of them) and they were escorted to the Lieutenant-General's office. Upon the doors whizzing open, both Fang and Lightning were simultaneously engulfed in hug by an ecstatic Rygdea.

"Welcome back to Oerba! Farron, glad to have you back with us; and Fang," he stepped back to get a good look at her. "Damn happy that you decided to come back to the living. Welcome back, welcome back!"

He ushered them into his spacious office, asking about how Bodhum had been, how Snow and all of the other old l'Cie were doing. The idle chatter went on until a call buzzed in on his comm. system. After talking it, he turned regretfully toward Lightning.

"I hate to be the bad guy, but I had been hoping you could get started and run a few maneuvers with your new recruit squad I just brought in. Don't worry, I'll keep Fang entertained and catch up with her in the meantime."

Lightning was already nodding her head in acquiescence when she registered everything that Rygdea said. She had been expecting to do work upon arrival, but not of the nature in which he just described.

"Wait. What do you mean "new recruits"? You mean to say you just brought in a completely green compliment of soldiers for the TST?"

If Lightning's eyes could shoot thunderbolts…well, she was given her name for a reason. Rygdea seemed either completely unaffected, or utterly oblivious.

"Now, don't be like that. Remember how green the first squad you trained was?"

"Exactly." But knowing that she wasn't going to win an argument with her superior, she instead growled, "Just let me see how hopeless or not they are already."

Rygdea walked with her to the door, talking over a few more details concerning the new squad. Once Lightning had left the room, Rygdea came back around to face Fang again, his face breaking out into a trickster's smile.

"It really is good to see you again in the flesh, Pulsian. I knew it would take more than the Sanctum to get rid of you."

"You know me well, Rygdea." And it was true. For all of the small time Fang had spent flying about Cocoon with Cid Raines' Cavalry, she had grown the closest with the first officer by far. They were cut of the same cloth, Rygdea and she. And now here he was, the same man, but the chief commanding officer of an entire base, overlooking greater operations for the whole of Gran Pulse.

And as commander, he was presently on the intercom, presumably with his secretary, giving strict orders to cancel all and any meetings he had for the rest of the day.

"Oh, and send some drinks and snacks into my office, too, will you? Thanks."

Fang leaned comfortably into her chair as Rygdea turned his attention back toward her. "So, fancy place they've got you keeping here. Never thought I'd live to see the day where they'd managed to chain you to a desk. You always struck me as a free-roaming kind of man."

His face twisted as if in pain. "And that I am. Believe me when I say I can't wait for the day I get my Cavalry back up and flying. Until then, it sucks, but here I am. Having Farron to mess with helps lighten my days, of course."

Fang snickered into her hand. She could just imagine how exasperated the straight-laced Lightning would get with having Rygdea as her commanding officer.  _Just as badly irritated as what she's going to be having to deal with me 24/7 from now on_ , she thought idly. In her expert opinion, though, the ruffling of feathers was good for Lightning. Too much seriousness and her face risked the threat of falling into a permanent scowl. It was good that Light worked under someone who understood the whole military culture, but could keep her lightened up as well. All things considered, Fang had to admit, it seemed as though her return to the military was treating the former l'Cie well, and she said as much to Rygdea.

He smiled, somewhat flattered by the observation. "That's good to hear from someone else. I have to say, having spoken with Amodar, I was a bit worried about the woman. Even when she got here, she was still so far on edge. It was like she was waging a private war with herself."

"Oh?" Fang grabbed a glass of water and a roll of some sort that the secretary just carted in, biting into the bread as she waited for Rygdea to continue. It had been hard to get any kind of sense of how Lightning had been in the year between their crystallization and Serah's wedding. Based on the few bits she was able to hear second-hand from Team NORA and Serah, it hadn't sounded tremendously good, and for that, Fang truly was sorry. She had had Vanille, just as always. But throughout their entire struggle and right up to the end against Barthandelus, she hoped, ever so deeply, for some kind of resolution and rest for Lightning. The harsh tension in which the soldier always held herself even while leading them had never really dissipated. It had eased at times, but always Fang had watched her, and though she had never known all of the specifics of what inner battles Lightning fought with herself, she only ever thought that no single person should burden that much guilt on themselves. It made a flicker of regret surface in her gut, knowing now that hers and Vanille's inadvertent abandonment of Lightning had been a source of residual pain even after the war ended.

"Yeah," continued Rygdea, his voice somewhat softer. "You know Farron, probably better than me. She's one of the finest fighters and leaders I've ever encountered, but she's so shielded. She reminded me of…of Cid. Especially when she first arrived here. With Cid, he was our leader, yes…but especially…near the end…I can't fully describe it. It was like he was carrying a weight that was too heavy to bear, but he wouldn't let anyone else share the burden, as if he would dare task only himself with it." Rygdea tossed his water back, his brow knitted. "She reminded me of that…like she'd been carrying something heavy for too long, but didn't know how to start letting go and asking others for help. No one deserves that kind of self torture. I know."

He caught Fang's eyes again, breaking his frown and flashing his teeth. "But I decided I'd be having none of that, and gave her an entire special team to train. So I like to think, however much my methods with First Lieutenant Farron may not follow protocol, that I've had a good influence on her. Or at least lightened her up to a joke every now and then.

"But enough about Farron, I haven't spoken with you in over a year. How are you? How's Vanille? I was surprised not see her with you."

Fang gave him a brief recap of events since she had come out of crystal stasis. All in all, it was pretty uneventful up until this point.

"So now that you're out of Cocoon, what do you plan on doing? I'll tell you now, I've got a place for you here if you're interested in joining the Frontier Corps."

Fang nearly spat out her mouthful of water, instead having to choke it down over the laughter that was erupting out of her. She knew Rygdea was being serious, but really? When she finally controlled her laughter enough, she spoke.

"Thanks, but no, mate. Can you imagine me in the military…" she trailed off into a fit of laughter again.

Knowing a lost cause when he saw one, Rygdea shrugged. "It was worth a try. So what else then? Have you thought about signing up to the hunter's lodge?"

"What's that?" The name on this instantly had Fang intrigued.

"Hunter's lodge. It's kind of like our bounty hunter equivalent for monsters here on Gran Pulse. Cursed powers know that we've got our hands full enough as it stands; we frankly just don't have the manpower to take care of every little beastie that pops up." He stopped pensively for a moment. "Sometimes we don't have the manpower to take care of the big beasties either—and that comment doesn't leave this room. Anyway, to make things easier for everyone involved, we like to hire out for jobs sometimes. Think of it like contracting work. Say a pack of gorgonopsids has been stealing livestock from a settlement, but there are just more important things that we have our militia doing. We put out a contract on the hunt, someone eventually takes it and does the job, and we pay them. It's been growing in popularity, especially with the retired soldiers."

"Hmm." That sounded like something in Fang's line of work, which was undoubtedly why Rygdea brought it up.

"If you're interested, I can get you a hunter's license so can start looking at contracts."

"I may have to take you up on that," she admitted.

"Well then I'll put a note in to get you a license. Now, if you're good, how about a tour of our fine facilities."

She finished her roll—the third one she was on—and followed Rygdea up and out of his office. They walked through a maze of hallways and buildings until he finally swiped his badge at a door and they stepped out into the bright sunshine and open air of a vast training courtyard.

"Commander, sir!" A gate guard at the door flashed them a swift salute and then wordlessly led them to a shaded set of bleacher seats that were off to the side. Two more guards followed and remained behind them as they took their seats. He gestured out toward the squad of soldiers that were currently on the packed earth of courtyard, and Fang immediately picked out the distinctive pink hair of Lightning at the front with a drill sergeant. She was perfectly focused on whatever she was telling the troops, not having glanced over in their direction even once, though several of the men and women who were supposed to be listening to her already had.

"And here is the raw group of recruits that I just managed to dump on our dear Lightning's unsuspecting lap," spoke Rygdea, already grinning.

Fang glanced at him with a smirk. "Tell me true, are they  _really_  as green as what she was trying to argue, or is that just our old Farron talking?"

He fingered the rough stubble on his chin pensively, trying to give an unbiased answer. "By normal rank and file standards, they're all soldiers with good reviews—would make good privates in any standard GC Security Regiment."

"But…?" She prodded. Rygdea always liked getting his prime bits of information slowly dragged out so that they could be fully appreciated.

"But making lance-corporal for the Tactical Scouting Team is a bit of a different animal, if you know what I mean," he finished suggestively. "But that's why I put her as the head of our TST. I'll be damned if not a single one of these recruits doesn't come out glowing after she's fully trained them to her standards. Just sit back and watch."

Which is precisely what Fang did.

She watched as Lightning, predictably, ground into her new squad, running drill after drill, and then moving into individual skill tests. And she watched as Lightning, rather unexpectedly, worked with her recruits, walking among the ranks and adjusting rifle grips, attack stances, and defensive formations. She demanded perfection, but demonstrated patience in her leadership that suddenly made Lightning and Hope's relationship click into place for Fang. That patience was not a side Lightning liked to frequently show, but it was there, and her capacity to use it was what made her such a good military leader.

When the drill sergeant called for a break before moving onto sparring matches, Rygdea moved from his seat.

"I think I've got a better idea for the troops than the standard bouts against each other. That spear of yours for more than just show, huntress?"

Fang tossed her head, affronted by the insinuation, but looking forward to the prospect of actually getting to move around, if what Rygdea was implying meant anything. "What kind of question is that? Is there any part of me that's just for show? And of course I'm game for some fun."

"Ha! That's what I was hoping to hear."

They walked off the bleachers until they reached Lightning, who was deep in conversation with her drill sergeant.

"…needs work on the 3rd formation," the sergeant was saying, cutting himself off once, Rygdea came in range. "Lieutenant-General, sir!"

Lightning saluted quickly, her eyes flashing to Fang quickly before training themselves back on her commanding officer. "Touring the grounds?"

Fang leaned on spear casually. "Actually, I was hoping to get a bit of a workout in."

Lightning shook her head. "These guys would be child's play, Fang. It wouldn't even be fun for you."

"That's why I was thinking you could have a go with Fang instead; give a show and remind everyone at the base what exactly it is they're working toward."

"Unless you're worried about me kicking your ass in front of your squad," taunted Fang.  _That_  got the reaction she was looking for.

"Done," Lighning snapped. "And we'll see who kicks who, Fang."

It actually was an excellent point. Though the two had sparred a bit while at Bodhum, it had been mainly casual, for warm-up, for learning new moves, new weapons. They had never fully gone up against each other. It would put to bet the question that had always begged the forefront of their companions' minds: who would win, speed or strength?

Rygdea, for his part, looked like a child who had just gotten the toy he wanted. "Great! To the arena, then. I'll have a call put out on the base. You're on in about 10."

He led them into the "arena", a large indoor stadium with a center field that was currently composed of what Fang supposed was a "desert simulation", complete with alternating areas of sand and hardened ground, and various sized boulders. Swathes of people were beginning to file into the auditorium, taking their seats and looking on eagerly.

"No restrictions on this one. I know you can both use magic, so anything is game, just try not to kill each other," Rygdea joked. "I'll be up in the box. Start on the buzzer and end on the siren or a yield. Don't disappoint!"

Then he took his leave, clearly already enjoying what was to come.

Before an entire crowd of eager spectators, this sparring match would be very different, she felt. Not that she particularly cared. Spectators or no, she planned on fighting at 150% for this bout. Lightning certainly looked as though she were going to go all out. Granted, if the way no one at the BSR wanted to spar with her was any indicator, she supposed Light had a reputation of sorts she was going to have to live up to.

She sauntered over to Lightning, who, if the already distant look in her eyes was anything to go by, was in complete mental battle mode.

"Promise not to get angry when I beat you up?"

She stared unblinkingly back at Fang. Fang felt herself being hypnotized staring into those unreadable depths. "In your dreams."

Then the buzzer sounded and like a flash Lightning had dashed out of Fang's field of vision to commence her attack. Fang volleyed over a boulder to avoid the rain of thundaga that Lightning summoned down. As Lightning engaged her in a few attacks, Fang took the opportunity to start back up the conversation, knowing that it would likely irritate Lightning as well.

"Ah, my dreams. If only you knew the full content of them. The real question," said Fang in between bursts of counters and defensive strikes. "Is what is at stake? I mean, what does the winner get? Or what does the loser lose? Besides the eternal glory, obviously."

"The winner gets to win. Who cares?" So simple-minded.

"Ah, so then the loser gets to kiss ass."

Lightning made was Fang assumed was a sound of derision. "Ha. So the winner gets a kiss. What kind of reward is that?"

Oh, she just  _had_ to ask that. Sometimes her lack of foresight played perfectly into Fang's hand.

Lightning bounded off a boulder at a nearly impossible angle, slashing downward in deadly a stroke that Fang caught against her spear comfortably. They strained against each other, gunblade against spear shaft. Fang knew that she could overpower Lightning easily like this—she always did have the advantage of strength—but she instead chose to lean in close, speaking in the barest of whispers.

"Tell you what sunshine, if you win, I'll even let you choose where I plant it."

Fang laughed as Lightning bounded back from her with a burst of anti-gravity, sputtering out a retort even as her cheeks flamed with immediate and severe color. She released a spray of bullets that Fang took head on with a medguard stance.

It was a battle between equals. Lightning was all fluid and motion, never stopping even when she was casting a spell. The use of her personal anti-grav unit to bounce off of anything she could get a foot on only enhanced her already unbelievable agility. Fang knew that she was no match for Lightning in those areas, but she had a much more solid defense, and she was far stronger. If she could only land a direct hit with her spear, she could easily disarm Farron, or end the match altogether. But Lightning knew that, too, which is why she never gave Fang the opportunity, instead always moving. But by the same token, even with her unnaturally fast speed and complete 360 degree attacks, she could not seem to break Fang's impenetrable guard.

_What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object_? Fang's lips parted of their own accord, flashing her white teeth. They would just have to find out, wouldn't they?

She decided she was getting tired of letting Lightning have all the fun of attacking. Letting out a bloodcurdling old Yun war cry, she threw a debuff and charged. Lightning staggered back, dazed for a brief second by the unexpected counter as it robbed her of the haste she had caste earlier. Then she dove to the right as the ground where she had been standing but a second earlier exploded with the impact force from Fang's overhead attack.

Lightning fought back the smile tugging at her lips as Fang launched an all-out offensive.  _About time_.

As opposed to Fang's defensive strategy, which involved blocking and countering, Light focused almost purely on evasion and then attacking. Dodge, weave, then cut. Fang felt herself getting frustrated with her inability to actually engage the soldier. Her current method was obviously not working.

In lieu of that, she pushed in close, transforming her spear into its chain and dual weapon form. With the shaft broken down and a spear head in each hand, she could now afford shorter, faster attacks that would give Light less time to react. She could practically hear Lightning cursing in her head as she pressed her attack again, quickly trying to even the odds.

But it seemed that despite both of their best efforts, neither could land a coup de grace. They had both given and received a few glancing blows, but even their signature best moves could not swing a decisive finish to the duel. Growing frustrated with her inability to change the tide of combat in her favor, Fang decided to try something different. Lightning in particular had always employed the use of different elemental strikes with her weapon; she would combine the best of both physical and magical attacks by casting a spell into her blade moments before swinging at her intended target. Magic had never been Fang's strongest suit as a l'Cie, but she figured that if Lightning could get away with that kind of combinatory attack pattern, why couldn't she?

She loaded a ruinaga spell on the ends of her weapon at the exact same time that Lightning loaded a fire spell onto her blade. When their weapons struck the result was utterly disastrous. The ensuing explosion blasted them both ten feet back into the hard ground. As Fang regained her senses, she also realized that she had managed to hang onto her weapon better than Lightning. Fang shot toward Lightning, eager to end the match as Lightning dove toward where her Omega Weapon lay at the foot of a boulder. Fang slammed Light against the boulder hard just as she had wrapped a hand on the hilt of her gunblade, pressing a spear tip to Lightning even as they met gazes and she felt the press of cold metal on her own skin.

They paused then. It was only for a second, but they locked eyes for what felt like an eternity, Fang with one spear tip against the soft flesh under Lightning's chin, and Lightning with her own Omega weapon so taut against Fang's throat that she was certain if she only swallowed, the blade would break skin. What they were both going to do next, not even Fang was sure, but just as she felt Lightning's muscles begin to uncoil in response to her own, a blaring siren rang out, signaling the end of their impromptu bout.

Very slowly, they withdrew their weapons, breathing heavily, their eyes still locked until Rygdea charged into the arena. As soon as she broke eye contact, Fang became aware of her heavy breath, her protesting muscles, of the roaring and cheering of the onlookers, and of Rygdea clapping as he half jogged to them, extending his thanks and congratulations.

"…but god _damn_ , Farron, I thought you were done surprising me!"

"Sir?" Her voice, though attentive, betrayed the exhaustion of the battle.

_At least I'm not the only one_. It was a petty comfort to know that Lightning had found their public duel just as taxing, and Fang would take it.

"That…that was the best damn fighting I have  _ever_  seen. Half of the soldiers on the base worship the ground you walk on, and the other half worship you, Fang."

Fang inclined her head as if to say she expected nothing different, and though she could care less what a bunch of nameless military dogs thought of her, it was good to know she hadn't lost any style during her most recent crystal sleep.

Lightning made some offhand comment trying to deflect the compliment, but Rygdea waved it away. "It's just a damn shame that I can't convince you to join the Corps so I could have you two for missions whenever I needed, Fang."

As much as the shocked and very nervous look on Lightning's face would make Fang's life if she got to see that on a daily basis (she could just imagine it even now, " _reporting for active duty, Captain Light_ ", ha), she had no desire to ever subject herself to any kind of military life. All those rules and regulations; it made perfect sense as to why Lightning loved it, but Fang would want to strangle herself or those around her in a less than a week.

"Sorry, Rygdea, you know it's not to my tastes."

Lightning seemed relieved, while Rygdea was somewhat disappointed. "Ah, well, can't be helped. Thanks for the show again—hopefully it will remind the uppity ones to keep their heads on straight. Farron, you're off for the rest of the day. The two of you go on and get out of here."

Fang didn't need telling twice, and for once it seemed like neither did Lightning. Fang followed her lead out of the Oerba military base and into the town proper.

Lightning led the way back toward where her apartment was.

"It's just another few minutes down the road. Not too far from the base." She stopped talking when she realized Fang had slowed to a stop a few paces behind her.

"Oerba…" Fang whispered. Just like last time, this too was a different town than the one that had filled the first two decades of her life. It was doubtless a vast improvement from the Cie'th haunted streets they had to brave when last here, but it was so different. Construction was everywhere, and the town she had filled away in her childhood memories was already dwarfed by the growing settlement that lay before her. It was disorienting. The same streets, but wider; some refurbished buildings, many completely new and far larger than any that had been there before. The old Oerba she held in her mind had trouble reconciling with the new one that lay before her. She felt lost.

And she looked it, too.

Lightning stepped up to her side as quietly as a shadow, but Fang could feel the warmth of her body there. A gloved hand hovered close above her own.

"Would you like to look around?"

The question was said kindly—surprisingly so coming from Farron—but devoid of the pity that anyone else would have automatically added in. For that alone, Fang was grateful; it gave her voice back to her.

"Yes."

They made their way down the paved and bustling roads, Lightning sometimes taking the lead, but Fang more often than not following the paths of her own memory, stopping every now and then to look at old buildings, or the new ones that had replaced them. It was a quiet progression for the most part, interspersed only with the occasional comment to try and explain to Lightning what recollections she was reliving in her head. "This was the grocery" or "the best hunter in village lived here". They made their way steadily through the "historical district" of the "new" Oerba, coming down to the waterfront of the lake, and to where the old orphanage lay that Fang and Vanille had grown up in, and that all of l'Cie had stayed in during their travels.

Fang stepped around the curve of the path and into the open courtyard of her old orphanage home, and felt her heartbeat catch.

Unlike so many of the other areas of old Oerba they had walked through that had been cleared and then rebuilt, this was different.

Fang would never describe herself as one for sentimental antics. If anything, she often found herself above the material trivialities and sentimentalities that the average individual dealt with. It had been hard, yes, sleeping for half a millennia and then waking to find the entire world as she had grown up in gone. But she had Vanille, and that was all the mattered to her at the end of the day. The decay of Oerba had been sad, but she was no where near as affected by it as Van had been.

Even so, she found herself afraid to see what had become of the old, dilapidated ruins of the orphanage she and Vanille and once called home. This plot of land had been her last material connection with her past, and she had been terrified to see if that past had been so callously bulldozed by the effects of time and progress, like so much else was, or even worse…left to continue in a permanent decay, as if stuck outside of time. But this. This, she could have never expected or predicted. This plot of land had obviously been bought, but the new owner was caring for it as their true home, carefully building a house up from the ground of the old ruins, stone by stone, while leaving the ancient stone courtyard in tact. This place was being rebuilt with thought and love. She realized Light was talking, and turned to face her.

"…the old building we stayed in had collapsed by the time I acquired the plot…I tried, but I couldn't do anything about the structure, though I salvaged what items I could out of it. I hope you…you don't mind that I've started trying to build a house again here. I-it just didn't seem right to let them pave over this like everything else, not when I knew how much this meant to you and Vanille…"

Her brain registered what Light was babbling on about— _since when did the taciturn Lightning ever rattle on?_ —and came back to life.

"You did…all this?" she asked, gesturing with one hand. Lightning closed her mouth as soon as Fang began to speak, but uttered an unflinching response for all that she looked hesitant.

"Yes."

Fang closed the distance between them without even thinking. One moment they were separated by a stone's throw, and the next, Fang had dropped her spear and thrown her arms around Lightning in firm hug. The woman tensed immediately, which was hardly surprising, but then, after a long second, softened and pressed her arms back around in what was a tentative but no less earnest response.


	13. La Chasse Sauvage

The sweat was dripping down Fang's brow and into her eyes, making her blink rapidly. By the devils, it was a hot afternoon, and even hotter still while on top of the waterfront house on the lakeside. The house that she and Lightning had been working on was close to being finished; Fang was in the process of working on the roof, but beyond that, all that was really left was a good coat of paint and turning on the power and plumbing.

It was a fine bit of work that they had accomplished, and Fang was proud of it. She had been hesitant at first, but at Lightning's persistence she had folded and agreed to making the house a joint project, though what it would mean when it was done, not even Fang was sure.

She was not entirely certain where things stood between her and Lightning, and as she took the moment to savor a temporary break, her mind was drawn back to an incident from well over a month ago. It had been an inconspicuous event, when Lightning had arrived back at the apartment well into the evening, coming directly from a field mission with one of her squads. She had still been wearing her combat armor, dirty and nicked with use.

" _Long day?"_ Fang had asked from the couch, already knowing the answer.

" _Too long."_

Lightning had begun to undo various buckles and latches, laboriously pulling out of the heavy body armor uniform she had been wearing in order to change back into something presumably lighter and less sweaty.

As she pulled the armor off, her undershirt was briefly caught up, allowing a Fang a glimpse of pale skin and what was, by anyone's definition, a perfectly toned abdomen. Fang forcefully averted her eyes after a second, aware that she was staring in a manner that nearly anyone could construe as not just friendly.

_What are you doing, Fang?_  Her mind had chided her. Lightning was beautiful—no one could deny that. Fang had noticed that from the moment she had first laid eyes on her. Of course, at that time Light had been a rogue soldier on the run from PSICOM staging a daring, almost fool-hardy diversion for the sake of Hope and Snow (really, Hope more than Snow). Upon dropping into the fray, expecting only to have to clean up the soldiers Snow had missed, grab his friends and make their escape, she was instead halted by the confrontation between the l'Cie that had ended with Hope being tossed toward Snow and with Farron departing in the opposite direction on what was surely a one-woman suicide mission in order to afford them an escape.

She was immediately struck by the strawberry-blonde beauty who had taken off to further distract the PSICOM troops. "Lightning"…a fitting name, she had thought, for, yes, she had been able to pin the name immediately to the figure based on Snow's stories well before he had even uttered her name. And she was a beauty—no one could say anything but that about the pale, lean woman with the strikingly sharp eyes and tightly guarded movements. She had darted away to engage troops with all the pointed grace of a highly experienced warrior, quickly forcing Fang to reevaluate her judgment of what would actually define a suicide mission by this woman's standards. Time had sped back up again, as soon as she had darted around the corner and out of Fang's sight; but the vision of the exotic (by Fang's standards) soldier remained ingrained in her mind. In that brief second, she had already committed to a change of plans, now certain that Snow and Hope would be able to handle themselves without her.

" _And then there were three…"_  She had said, almost impertinantly, before chasing off after Lightning.  _Chasing tail_ , a piece of her mind had teased. And even then, she couldn't lie: everything about Lightning intrigued her. Her initial appraisal had been that of a hot-headed, strong-willed and capable but frightened young woman—this foreign Cocoonian at first reminded her a bit of herself. But that was only the surface layer. As soon as she thought she had Lightning's number down, the bloody woman did something else that was completely unexpected, and not just once, but again and again throughout their travels. It was almost a constant struggle to get a full picture of the person that lay beneath the coldly volatile yet fiercely protective exterior.

Of course, intrigue or no, she knew better than to act on any interest she had in Lightning, if not because of the imminent reality that Lightning would most likely turn her away (though Fang did always love a good chase), if only because Fang, also, had far too much at stake to focus on, particularly once they were reunited with Vanille. But that distraction and that barrier did nothing to dim the interest that Lightning had peaked and continued to peak in her even now.

With anyone else she would have acted by this point, as simple as that. Fang was forthright with what she felt. But with Lightning, it was not the same. The situation was different.

Much like a hunt, Fang knew—she intrinsically knew—that it would be a matter of timing. There was a window of opportunity, and moving too early or too late, applying too much or too little pressure at the wrong time, and it would all be over in an instant. Even while she felt that keen interest hone in on Light, her heart, which had come to love Lightning so dearly as a friend, told her that it was not yet that time. And so instead she contented herself with each day stepping closer, and each day, by Lightning's own terms and time, letting her slowly peel back another layer to the complex person that so attracted Fang in the first place.

Each day served to slowly draw Fang into Lightning's life even more, and, Fang knew, to draw Light into hers.

It would all be timing.

"Quick contract, I take it?"

The voice, so achingly familiar, interrupted her reminiscing. She really must have been daydreaming if she had managed not to hear Lightning's boots clicking against the hard cobblestone. The smile on Lightning's face said she had picked up on Fang's lapse of awareness as well.  _Hmph…let her go ahead and think she can surprise me_.

"Yeah, I got back a few hours ago. A bit after lunch."

Fang watched as Lightning bounded up to the rooftop to look over the work that had been accomplished before finally sitting down next to her.

"Roof looks good. Not too much left to finish. So what was the contract?" she asked, turning her full attention on Fang. "I didn't get a chance to talk with Rygdea; he was stuck in meetings all afternoon."

"Eh, goblins. Usual pain in the ass, 'cause this time they had a chieftain, but it went easily enough. They decided to set up camp in one of the cliff passes leading to a watering hole. Not one of the main watering holes, but still. And I'm sure the chocobos appreciated—"

Fang went stock still as Lightning reached in toward her face. Lightning retracted her hand with a leaf between her fingers. Raising an eyebrow at whatever face Fang must have still been making, she explained herself. "Something in your hair. Were you going to continue?"

Just as shameless as that. She didn't bat an eyelash at the uncharacteristically personal motion, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do. Although Fang knew that if she drew attention to it, Light would get embarrassed. Instead she swallowed and finished her story about the contract she had completed earlier in the morning. Contracts were how she was making her living now, after all.

Following Rygdea's initial suggestion, and lacking any other more attractive options, Fang had begun taking on "hunt contracts". And Rygdea had gone above and beyond in helping her get the first foot in, preferentially tipping her on hunts before they were posted. After the first few jobs she'd taken on, things had gotten easier. She'd made the beginnings of a reputation for herself, not as a single woman trying to make some gil, but as a capable and efficient Pulsian expert, able to single-handedly do jobs that would usually required an entire group.

The pay was decent, though Fang would be the first to admit that she could make a lot more if she weren't so picky with what contracts she decided to pursue. However, she had standards she felt she had to keep up to—she was born and raised as a hunter, so there was a certain amount of pride to be taken in any hunt. She refused to take on any mark or job that didn't match those standards. Some might call her a snob, but she called it being a true hunter. Word on the street also suggested that some private contractors were taking notice of her capabilities, snob or no, and that meant that she might soon land some private jobs from traders and companies, which would undoubtedly pay very well. Until then, of course, she continued taking her marks from Rygdea.

"So, I was thinking—"

At the exact same time, both Fang and Lightning's comm. devices gave out a beep indicating a new message, and upon comparing, they found it to be the same one.

* * *

Lightning sighed next to Fang. The huntress wanted to nod in sympathy as they walked toward Rygdea's office; she was sure Lightning had been more than ready to go back home instead of returning to the base, even though she would never admit that out loud. Rygdea's message to the two of them had been a deliberately cryptic summons that promised an "unmatchable offer", so here they were.

Fang beat Lightning to the punch as they arrived at the office door, rudely banging against the cold metal surface and yelling, "At your service, your Majesty. Now let us in."

The door whizzed open, and she gallivanted in and took a seat before Lightning could form a rebuke. Rygdea just smiled as his two favorite fighters settled themselves.

"Well?" Lightning finally asked after she was seated, obviously disgruntled. Then he began.

"We've got a problem."  _Now_  Lightning was all ears. "Reports have been flooding in by caravans of a rogue adamantoise killing the trade near the Steppes off of New Haerii. I know the creatures are normally passive, but this one has planted itself right near the main trade crossroads and is destroying about anything and anyone that comes near it. It'll shut down half of the trade economy if we don't get rid of it soon."

"So," drawled Fang. "This seems like something the military would want to do themselves right?"

"Too true, but remember what I told you once about us not always being able to take care of the big problems? Yeah, well, this is one of those times. We could try to deal with it, but the last time we had to down an adamantoise, it ended up taking out over half a full squad with it. So needless to say, the New Haerii team has sent a request to me for help. And then I thought to myself, who better equipped for this kind of job than you two? And I promise you, Fang, I've got authorization for payment on this sucker that can make it more than worth your while."

In all honesty, payment would just be an extra bonus. This would be a true challenge, even for the two of them. Fang had no doubt that they would be able to fell the adamantoise, but even so, they would need to be particularly cautious and strategic. In her childhood, she remembered that if no member were a l'Cie, adamantoise hunting parties would travel in a group of at least ten people, and even then, they always expected casualties unless they were the most elite of experienced hunters. Luckily, if her sparring sessions with Lightning counted for anything, Lightning had improved even more since her crystallization, and Fang's own skills had not gone to waste either.

Fang's mind was already set on the matter, so all that counted was what Light wanted. She looked over at her housemate. Lightning caught her eyes, and reading what was unspoken there, she smiled as she turned back toward her superior.

"Rygdea, I think you've got yourself a clean-up crew."

* * *

Fang was all too antsy to be out of the hovercraft and onto the Archylte Steppe. There she would be in her element, and at ease. She was not at ease in the hovercraft, or perhaps more importantly, she was not sure what to make of the New Haerii TST Captain, Alexi Murdoch. The woman seemed kind, funny, and very capable, but Fang was still withholding judgment on her. Lightning had told her a fair amount of stories about the other officer from academy training, stunning Fang into the realization that the austere Farron did indeed have the ability to make friends, few though they were. Though she hated being shallow, she had to admit part of her was irrationally jealous of the tall, blonde captain and the time she had spent with Lightning not only before but even now as they talked and laughed in the seats in front of her. In a bizarre reversal of positions, Fang instead brooded in the back seat, remaining silent but for a handful of words the entire ride out from the New Haerii military base.

She shifted in her own seat for what felt like the hundredth time and said, somewhat irritably, "Are we close?"

Lightning glanced back sharply, picking up on the undertones in Fang's voice. "Just another minute or two, Fang. This  _is_  much faster than taking chocobos, and we'll be out soon."

It was true. Fang recognized that she was being petulant and tried to calm herself. She needed to focus on the upcoming fight. Though, there was one thing that was still bothering her. "Why did you need to bring the entire squad with us?"

That question was clearly directed toward the New Haerii captain, and even Lightning had to acknowledge the validity of it. "Yes, Alexi, why did you bring your entire first division squad? It's not as though this is a training exercise."

Murdoch let loose a guilty grin, shrugging her uniformed shoulders.

"Well, the official reason is to act as a backup escort in case things don't go well. I know, I know," she placated. "You're sure that you can take care of this. But the GC has never hired out on this dangerous of a mission before, and in a worse case scenario, we need to provide cover for our civilians and off duty officers. But more than that—since I know you Light, and if Light's respect for you is anything to go by, Fang, you must be a formidable opponent yourself—I would like to take this as a learning opportunity for both myself and my squad on how to deal with these monsters. I have a feeling this will all be very…informative."

Murdoch then settled comfortably back into her seat. Fang crossed her arms, whispering under her breath too low to be heard. "It should be."

Lightning was correct in her prediction, though. Barely moments later, the hovership slowed and then stopped, and Fang was all too eagerly undoing her seat belt and launching herself out of the craft and onto sweet land again.

Murdoch and Lightning followed at a more leisurely pace as the New Haerii TST soldiers took up positions from their own respective hovercraft. Fang walked to the forefront of their military escort, taking in the sights before her. They were placed well into the flatlands of the Steppes, distant from even the closest cliff walls and mountain foothills, though a single monumental form obscured the horizon not too far in the distance. The adamantoise was static for the moment, towering contentedly several hundred yards away at what was quite clearly a large crossroads. Wonderful.

Fang knelt down to the grassy earth, her focus fully in place now that her target was in sight. She scraped up a clump of dirt from between the blades of grass, rubbing the soil between her fingers before letting it crumble and fall out of her hand and into the breeze.

"Prognosis?" asked Light, suddenly standing beside her.  _Like my own shadow._

"No rain here for a while. Wind's blowing northerly, constant gusts."

"So, limited visibility."

"Right. Need to watch the stomps more than usual."

Murdoch watched the interaction between the two women with interest. They spoke in only terse, short statements, that were difficult for her to logically follow, but yet they seemed to inherently understand. Also, the change that had overcome the lancer was curious to view. The huntress had gone completely serious the moment they had gotten the rogue animal into view, decidedly different from the almost sourly terse air she had given off for most of the ride out here. She was curious to see exactly what Oerba Yun Fang was like, since she felt their brief introduction back at the compound and the relatively quiet ride over had not been a good indicator of the woman. With Rygdea's glowing recommendation behind her as well as Lightning's very close relationship and obvious respect, Murdoch was curious indeed.

"Well?" she directed the question more toward the huntress than toward her former classmate.

Fang turned and let her teeth show in a grin. "Sweetheart, just sit back and watch."

And with that, Fang took off at a causal pace toward the beast, Lightning matching strides with her. She did plan on giving a good show to watch, but they would still have to be very careful. Even the best of fighters could quickly meet their end with a careless mistake against an adamantoise. In the past, during their Focus, the easiest way to defeat the creatures was with the use of their eidolons, but that was no longer an option. Still, they had devised a plan of attack to try and follow. They needed to take out not just the front legs of the gargantuan creature, but the rear legs as well. With all of its support cut out from under it, the adamantoise should not only fall down but stay down. It was the only surefire method to dispose of it without risking anymore serious bodily harm than what they already were just by accepting the job.

The towering creature turned its beady eyes on them as they approached. It was a clear challenge. Fang wanted to glare at the misty form of Titan in the distance. The bloody jerk was probably enjoying every minute of this. On that line of thinking, she  _was_  glad that he had never decided to pull an adamntoise against them during their Faultwarrens adventures.

"Ready?" asked Lightning. Her gunblade was already drawn and at her side.

Fang hefted her spear and bent her knees ever so slightly. The wind briefly lifted her hair from her shoulders, making it tickle her neck. "Let's get 'em! Time for some double trouble!"

They sprinted toward the adamantoise, Fang leading the charge while Lightning hung back to cast the initial buffs that would help to shield them from the worst of what they were about to endure. And sure enough, as soon as Fang leapt to engage in her first attack, the great legs she was aiming for began stomping, unleashing earthquakes with each footfall. She would have to watch the rhythm of the tree trunk sized legs carefully in order to avoid the quake aftershocks. Even worse yet, the dry conditions were already taking effect, with the quakes causing massive plumes of dusty earth to nearly explode forth from the ground. The dense cloud of particles was limiting visibility quickly, and if Fang let it get into her eyes, she could say goodbye to being able to see anything. She thought about casting an aero spell, but the effects would be temporary at best.

Suddenly, Lightning was at her side, her buffs finished for the moment. Fang didn't even have to say anything as she continued attacking the right foreleg—Lightning simply followed suit and pressed against the left one. They weaved and dodged and sliced, stopping only to cast spells, as synchronized to each other as if they had been rehearsing this moment all their lives.

"What are you smiling about, you idiot?" yelled Lightning as she jumped up to avoid another small earthquake from one of the pounding legs. She yelled only to make sure that her voice was heard though; there was no true irritation present. "I should have known that you would find this funny of all things."

Fang felt the grin spread even wider across her cheeks. "Just thinkin' about the fact that I don't know of any other person who can dance this well with me. Reminds me of the good old days."

Sadly, Light's back was turned as she darted toward the back legs of the colossal creature, so Fang couldn't read her expression. "Oh yes, the "good old days" of being hunted down and waiting to turn into Cie'th."

"Why Lieutenant Farron!" teased Fang, allowing her voice to sound mortified. She was quite honestly surprised; humor was a rare dish to be served from Light. "Is that  _sarcasm_  I do detect in your statement?

"Never." The response was said in such an overly serious monotone that Fang couldn't help but immediately laugh aloud. Oh, it  _was_  good to be back to this.

She never thought that the hunt could get better than what she had experienced growing up, but in usual form, Lightning had proved her wrong. It was true, what she had just told Light. Fang was a good solitary hunter. She worked well with Vanille, who had always provided magical backup for her in battles, but usually when forced to fight alongside other equally aggressive warriors she always felt as if she were vying for dominance. When she first began fighting at Lightning's side all that time ago in Palumpolum, it had been more than a pleasant realization to discover that there was no such tension when they fought together. It was, as a wizened warrior had once described to her, like a perfect dance. They moved off of each other with an effortless fluidity, often reading each others movements and directions without any verbal communication needed. Solo hunts would never lose their appeal, but there was simply so much more to be said for these dual battles she could conduct with Lightning, and her only.

Sadly, there was only so much time to dwell on those thoughts in the present. The adamantoise was making sure of that. Fang continued to alternate throwing debuffs and jumping about to keep the creature focused on her. When it stopped trying to thrash at her and pushed its head outward, she immediately dropped back in fear, shoving her palms against her ears without a second thought.

"Light!" she screamed.

The soldier looked up and followed suit barely a second before an earsplitting roar ripped through the air, making the bones in Fang's head rattle loudly despite the efforts to shield herself from the aural assault. She was glad she had preemptively recognized what the beast was doing. The roar—or screech, really—from the adamantoise was legendary for having just the right pitch to effectively stun any listeners who were in close range. By covering her ears Fang had escaped the worst of the effects, though her entire body still ached from the potent sound waves.

Having moved away to take cover from the attack, Fang was now not considered a threat by the adamantoise, so it turned its attention toward the small blonde-haired human near its tail.

"Fang…" Lightning's voice wobbled uncertainly as she began diving and jumping every which way to avoid the now-flailing back legs.

_Oops._  Right, she was supposed to be the bait. "Ha…sorry about that! Hold on a sec, Light!"

She renewed her offensive against the tortoise, drawing its attacks back toward her while Lightning dove into final action against the back legs. She flashed back and forth between the two rear legs to lay successive blows on the vital tendons beneath the thick skin. Never had Fang seen anything that was human match Lightning for speed. She knew she had an advantage in strength; even as a woman, she could out power most men. Yet she believed that for as long as she lived, she would never meet another individual who could surpass, let alone keep up with, Light's unnerving speed.

Light paused in her attack to jump back, switching her weapon to gun form as she took aim near the rear left heel of the adamantoise. Her clear blue gaze flickered up to make eye contact.

"Fang! Now!"

Then she ripped off a perfectly aimed shot at the leg, and upon impact the beast let out a thunderous groan as its footing crumpled and it tumbled downward. Readied from Light's signal, Fang deftly jumped back and out of the way of massive head, shifting the grip on her spear to a much different stance. As soon as the entire body reverberated against the ground, she launched herself sky high to enact her devastating Highwind attack. With her target staggered below her, it was an easy enough finishing move, though it still required all of the force she could muster in order to drive the tip of her spear deep into the skull of the adamantoise, thus ending its life and the hunt.

Lightning gingerly made her way around the now prone monster while Fang roughly wrenched her spear back out, letting out a loud and raucous whoop of victory as the squad of Frontier troops moved back in. They slowed as they approached the adamantoise, and the excited buzz of conversation roared into life as they all admired the seemingly impossible two-person job.

Murdoch and her aide-de-camp approached Fang and Light directly, both of them wide-eyed and amazed.

"Blessed Buniberzei…" trailed off Murdoch, looking back and forth between Fang, her gory hunting spear, and the felled monster. "Where did you learn how to use moves like that?"

Fang couldn't help but flash her trademark grin, responding with the first thing that came to mind. "It's all in the wrist, darling."

The distinct cough of disguised laughter indicated what Lightning thought of that, while Murdoch let out a chortle of appropriate amusement.

As she twirled her spear to rest it back against the ground, her eyes abruptly sharpened on the way Lightning was holding herself: her body balanced completely on one leg, such that the other foot had essentially no weight on it. Murdoch followed her gaze and spoke before Fang could.

"Lightning, are you alright? Are you injured?"

She stiffened immediately, which was answer enough for Fang.

"No! My ankle is just…a bit tender. Must have stepped funny, but I'm fine." As if to prove her point she took a firm step with it, and while it held, the whole of her side immediately buckled even as her face winced and whitened.

Fang moved in the space of a heartbeat, throwing one arm under around Lightning's waist so that the officer could lean the weight of her weakened side against her.

"Like hell, you're fine," she argued. "Damned fal'Cie, Light, why didn't you just heal it when you crunched it in battle? I didn't think it was bad based on how you kept pressing the attack."

An exasperated sigh greeted her. "Well, we were a bit busy at the time. And in all honesty, my magic is sucked dry right now. So unless you still have some reserves…? No, I didn't think so. Old fashioned meds for me then."

Murdoch approached, looking concerned. "Here, Light, I can help, too, if you need another shoulder. We'll take you to the field medic now."

Fang interjected, keeping her arm wound possessively about Lightning's midsection. "I think I've got our dear leader, so just lead the way, please."

Lightning huffed this time, though there was a note of patient and rich humor in her voice instead of the usual reticence as she mimicked the huntress. "Fang's got me, Alexi, so please just lead the way toward the medic."

Murdoch complied, and the medic met them halfway, immediately fussing over the injured ankle and half shoving Fang and Murdoch away as he went to work on his patient.

Fang shook her head and growled "healers" at the exact same moment Murdoch muttered "medics". They stopped, looked at each other, and then laughed easily.

"So," ventured Fang. Perhaps now was the opportunity to redo introductions. "You know Lightning from officer school?"

"That I did. In fact, our first introduction involved her breaking two of my ribs." Murdoch chuckled and patted her armored side in remembrance. "She's not an easy person to get to know, but I think she's a good friend to have. Of course, you'd know all this. You know Lightning better than me, I'd think. The way you two fight together says as much. I know some people find it cliché, but I've always agreed with the idea that battle is the best way to see how a person really is."

_The dance,_  Fang agreed internally. "And?"

Murdoch smiled at the leading question, but answered truthfully nonetheless. "I liked what I saw. You two compliment one another very well."

Fang was somewhat taken aback by the genuine honesty of the answer, as well as the measured and deep-seeing gaze. She found herself thrown off from the cheeky comment that had been forming on her tongue, and as she momentarily struggled with a response, the captain clapped a friendly hand against her shoulder.

"Thanks again for the demo today, Fang."

Now Fang just smiled back, cuffing a fist lightly against Murdoch's arm. "Any time. You know where to find me when you need a true Pulsian expert. Or just a clean up crew."

Before they could continue, a loud curse echoed through camp. Fang whirled to see the medic glaring at Lightning as she writhed beneath the not so tender ministrations of the syringe he currently had lodged above her ankle.

"Fuck!" hissed Light while the medic finished the injection. As if aware of the pair of eyes on her, Lightning turned a murderously serious gaze toward Fang and Murdoch.

"Not. One. Word." She warned.

Fang forced herself to nod as solemnly as possible, hoping that her personal amusement wasn't showing through too much, and knowing, undoubtedly, that Murdoch was trying to hide away laughter just as much as her.


	14. Timing

It was done. At long last, with many long months of on and off toil, the house was finished. The stones had long been set, the walls insulated and covered, the windows installed, and the fine dust and dirt of work swept away to reveal a newly shining residence. The modest two-story house and patio looked perfect to Lightning, even better than what she envisioned when she had first begun her work.

She hoped—no, that was wrong; she  _knew_  that Fang felt the same way, too. There was no question over Fang's exuberance in the project, and her genuine excitement at the finished product. No, the real question now was, where was Fang?

They had agreed to meet after Lightning finished up her squad inspections on the base. It had taken a bit longer than expected, and Light had called Fang to let her know that she was running late, but the evening was now setting in, and Fang had not yet arrived. Just as she was reaching into a pocket to pull out her comm. device, said woman bounded around the corner, a bag slung over one shoulder.

"Sorry for the delay, Light," she apologized. "Had to run and pick something up."

Lightning waved away the apology. "It's alright, Fang. What was it that you were getting?"

"C'mon!" Fang ignored the question and sat down on the edge of the courtyard, legs dangling off the stone edge and over the gentle moving waves of the lake, gesturing for Lightning to do the same. She followed suit, knowing that it was better than trying to press her point again; she would have to be patient and wait and see. Fang opened the bag she had brought with her, setting the contents down on the stone.

"Thought I'd get us something special," Fang finally explained, pulling out two glasses and a bottle of liquor. The small bottle glittered in the setting sun, the dying light making the contents sparkle like an orange flame.

Lightning examined the clearly expensive purchase with a critical eye. "This isn't to your normal tastes," she remarked casually.

"Like I said, smartass, something special for a special occasion. Now shush."

Lightning smiled but remained quiet. She was not, by nature, as deliberately antagonizing as what Fang could be, though she had far more experience now in knowing what she could say or do to make Fang sigh in exasperation and occasionally reverse their roles. She had long since learned to take those small victories when she could.

She instead watched with interest as Fang expertly poured out the liquid into the two glasses. Even in a smaller amount, the beverage still shone a brilliant light orange, making her wonder exactly what it was. She supposed she would soon find out, though, as Fang, evidently satisfied with her initial pour, pressed one of the two glassed firmly into Lightning's hand. She then grabbed the other, holding it up.

"To a job well done," Fang intoned formally, lifting her glass for a toast. Lightning did not follow suit though.

"No," Light said slowly, mulling it over. "To us."

She lifted her glass high, waiting for Fang to respond. It only took a brief second. Their glass chimed merrily as they clipped against each other.

"To us."

A small, secret smile curved on Fang's face as she and Lightning downed their glasses. The beverage was delicious; it tasted of fresh rain and warm sun and the first bloom of flowers; it tasted like spring. That alone confirmed what she had already surmised; it was a Cocoonian beverage, designed to taste nothing like alcohol and to be as delicious as any would be purveyor could imagine. It was a fitting toast to their accomplishments.

Their house had a magnificent view of the sunset over the water, and they enjoyed the view now. It was a typically warm night for the Oerban summer, and the suns rays flamed against the water and the massive orb of Cocoon in a whirlwind of colors that was matched by nothing else.

Lightning was content like this. She and Fang talked for a little while, but ultimately settled into an easy and comfortable silence as they watched the horizon and Fang periodically refilled their drinks.

She was very happy, Lightning realized. Not just in this moment, but particularly in the past few months. It was easier now to look back and admit just how discontent she had been in the wake of first deciding to leave Bodhum. It simply wouldn't have worked for her if she had continued trying to force things into place there. A façade, a mask, a falsehood…Amodar had been right all along: she needed to move beyond the sleepy little town at the edge of Cocoon. She hadn't known where that would take her, and perhaps hadn't wanted to think about where, and yet she couldn't imagine things having ever turned out better than what they were. She was happy with her job here, with the impact she felt she was making, and she was happy with the excitement and challenge of being on Gran Pulse. And though it was something that she had not even fully admitted to herself yet, she was, at long last, okay with Serah and Snow. A new chapter in her life had begun, and Oerba was her home now, much more than Bodhum. She glanced at Fang out of the corner of her eye as the woman sipped the last contents of her glass. The warmth from the liquor spread easily across her midriff. Fang was as much a part of her home now, too.

Fang stretched and then placed her hands down against the stone, but she either misjudged the distance slightly, or Lightning's hand was closer to her than she realized, and their hands touched—Fang's landing softly on Lightning's—and Lightning felt a bolt of electricity jolt through her at the unexpected contact. It was not the first time she had felt such. It seemed with ever increasing frequency that such unintentional and casual contact left her flustered. It would make her breath catch for the barest second, make her heartbeat quickly pound in her ears, make her muscles jump. For casual nature aside, she couldn't shake how very intimate the small physical contacts were to her, and how she focused so tightly on them, despite her best efforts to relax.

In this case, though, it appeared that her momentary weakness had betrayed her, and she felt herself freeze as Fang's intense gaze pinned her in place, searching. Fang made no attempt to move her hand from where it rested, nor did Lightning make any attempt to move hers. Instead she waited, unable to break away, counting heartbeats as she waited for something—for  _anything_ —to happen. But to wait like this, caught and fearing what would happen next…the silence and the tension were nearly killing her until Fang finally broke it.

"How long are you—are we—going to dance around this, Light?"

"Around what?" she asked, licking her suddenly dry lips. She was terrible at trying to feign ignorance to deflect questions, and would never normally try this approach, but she felt so heady, a mix of the fiery drink in her stomach and the hypnotic stare that had caught her yet again.

Fang sighed before shaking her head in a resigned fashion. Even so, there was a strong undercurrent of amusement in the motion, hinting at what she thought of Lightning's unusually poor counter. "Should've known you'd make me act first."

Lightning had only a passing moment to try and puzzle out Fang's words before the woman closed the distance between them and gently kissed her. At that point, any thoughts she was in the midst of forming abruptly fled her conscious mind. She was taken completely off guard, robbed of her breath and of her wits, unable to focus on anything but the despairingly sweet feel of Fang's warm mouth against hers.

And just as quickly, the sensation was gone, and Lightning was left reeling. Fang had pulled back, clearly trying to gauge a reaction from the still thunderstruck Lightning. Whatever she saw there—surely the intensive longing and desire Lightning so sharply felt even now—must have been encouraging, because she put a hand up to cup Lightning's cheeks and then leaned back in before Light could utter a word.

Fang's lips moved across hers in soft, insistent pecks. On the corner of her mouth, on her lips, over and over until Lightning found herself falling forward and struggling to capture those lips and kiss back, an unexpected moan startling even her when it emerged from her throat.

At that, Fang pulled back yet again, this time a knowing smirk on her face as she chuckled. Nonetheless, her eyes gleamed with a predator's heat. "I'll take that as a good sign. Especially considering you've yet to get violent or—"

Lightning stared into Fang's eyes…those oh-so very green and glinting eyes. She did  _not_ want to match banter right now. She didn't even need to think.

_Green means go._

"Fang…shut up," she commanded strongly, and then leaned in to press their lips together again. Fang was never so glad as to follow a command as at that moment. The empty bottle and glasses fell to the wayside as she wrapped her arms around Lightning. They kissed over and over again, until all that either could taste was the remnants of spring from each others' skin.

Lightning woke up with one of the more tremendous headaches she had experienced in some time, and with the confusion of not being able to clearly recall how she had ended up safely in bed from last night. The sunlight pierced through cracks in the window shades, making her squint as her eyes adjusted and she sat upright. A figure helped to block the harsh rays, though.

Fang was already up and standing, her back currently turned away from Light as she faced the window, a glass of half-finished water in one hand. She was partially undressed, wearing only her choli on top. Her sari was instead peeled down such that it only served now to wrap around her waist as a makeshift skirt, leaving even more skin bared than normal. Instinctively, Lightning looked down at herself. She was wearing a thin sleeveless undershirt, with the sheets still tangled around her. The indentation on the bed next to her confirmed what she was beginning to recall—that Fang had taken the spot next to her, instead of her usual sleeping residence on the pull-out couch.

Alerted by the rustling, Fang turned around to look at Light, setting her glass down on the bedside table. Lightning spoke before Fang could.

"We…did…" She was unable to form an appropriate question as her eyes jumped back and forth between herself, the bed sheets, and Fang. She felt the heat rising in her face whenever her eyes lingered on Fang's exposed skin. For her part, Fang remained oddly unreadable, interrupting only once it became apparent Lightning was not going to finish coherently.

"We went to sleep together last night—or maybe more appropriately, we passed out—but that's all, Light. I'd like to think that with all of the history between us, we deserve better than a drunken night of mostly forgotten fumbling."

Fang finished by sitting back down on the edge of the bed, refusing to break eye contact. Lightning realized that her momentary distress upon awaking could have—and must have—been easily misconstrued by Fang, so she desperately tried to orient her swirling mind. Fragmented memories of last night, hindered by the still dissipating fog of sleep and dreams, rapidly pieced themselves back together. In a flash, she remembered. In that same flash, her hand snaked out before she could think, reaching for Fang's face…to what? To confirm? To question? She wasn't even sure until her fingers halted just as abruptly, hovering bare inches away from foreign features. And her mind screeched to a halt then, utterly at a loss. She was suddenly uncertain, as untrusting and, dare she even think it, as fearful as she had ever been. She felt exposed, open, and vulnerable, as if her chest was helplessly bared for a blade to the heart. That alone was terribly disorienting, lending to the feeling of precarious teetering. Memories completely aside, all she could think of now was what  _could_  happen if she let her hand continue its intended journey. She wasn't sure, and that uncertainty was more terrifying to her in the moment than anything else.

But before she could retract her hand, before she could retreat back into the walls she had spent her life building, a word stopped her.

"Claire."

Fang's voice was gentle but firm, and Lightning's already curling fingers stopped their escape. Against Lightning's judgment, Claire looked at Fang, and fell into those intent and equally vulnerable eyes.

"Claire, I'm here."

The words were said as a simple statement, with not even the faintest hint of sarcasm or teasing behind them. Lightning felt her fingers tentatively uncurl, felt her arm extend those few more inches, and felt Fang's cheek press against her hand, immediately grounding her confusion even as a sense of intrigued pleasure began to blossom from somewhere in her chest.

Her fingers trailed a delicate pathway across Fang's face, following the route that her eyes took her. She skimmed her fingertips over the tanned skin, the high cheekbones, the strong curve of an eyebrow, the sculpting of the chin. She felt more than heard with a detached fascination the inhalation of breath when her thumb lightly skimmed across the soft skin of Fang's lower lip. When she moved to trail her thumb back across those same lips, a hand reached up to catch hers. Lightning finally looked up to meet Fang's gaze. Those eyes, normally a bright and shining malachite, seemed darker than what she ever remembered, ringed in black but still glowing with a deep inner heat that sent an involuntary shiver racing through her, making her feel very self-aware again, and not in an unpleasant way.

For Lightning, no words needed to be spoken, from either Fang or herself. She knew, for once— _unequivocally_ —what she wanted.

She extricated her hand from Fang's before the woman could do anything, and in an equally deft motion, moved that same hand behind the back of Fang's neck. Then she leaned in to capture Fang's lips with her own. There was no hesitation behind her kiss—it was direct, bold, and forthright, but still filled with a gentle tenderness and warmth. In one sense, it was uncharacteristic of her, but in another, it was everything that she was in the very fiber of her being.

She deepened the kiss, allowing more feeling into it. Fang responded in kind, and half pushed Lightning back down onto the bed even as Lightning half pulled Fang back with her. Light muffled a gasp against Fang's lips as the woman's hands began slowly but fervently exploring the curves of her sides and the press of her stomach muscles.

But it was Lightning who laughed at Fang's heated groan and began moving her lips and tongue further down to explore the lines of Fang's neck and collarbone. It was Lightning who edged her fingers underneath the fabric of the choli to feel more skin against her own. And when Fang's comm. device began beeping with an incoming call, it was Lightning who let out a snarl of displeasure and reached over to silence it.

"If it's important they can leave a message," she growled, before drawing a grinning Fang's mouth back to her own. She had other plans for the day now.

* * *

Lightning had never been the easiest person to get along with. It was a fact that she was widely renowned for among her peers, and one that she was not unaware of. All the years of lost childhood had hardened her, almost beyond hope of ever being able to maintain a semblance of normalcy again. At the time, in those late teenage years of hers when she first dedicated herself to the military and the rift between her and Serah had begun to appear, a part of her had recognized what was happening. Claire had seen it. But Claire had agreed to be frozen, to fall into her own crystal sleep behind Lightning's persona—not  _for_  Lightning, but for Serah. Everything had been for Serah.

That had changed when Snow entered the picture. His entrance had heralded the whirlwind of change that was to come.

Lightning tried to ignore the ever emerging truth that she could not protect Serah forever, that Serah would not want or need her protection forever; and it seemed that the more she tried to push away the truth, the more fate laughed in her face. The unthinkable happened: the Purge. With Serah's branding, the all too fragile world Lightning had steadfastly built up around her had shattered, and Lightning had been forced into a role that she had no desire, but no choice to play in. A multitude of hard facts that she would have remained willingly ignorant of were instead shoved down her throat. She had thought to herself more than once,  _how much easier would it be to just give up?_  To just stop struggling against all of the impossibilties…but she could not bring herself to. She was a fighter and she would not stop until her last breath, even when bereft of any hope.

And somehow, someway, beyond all and any odds, she had succeeded. She emerged a victor, a hero. Yet even though she stood as a champion alongside her companions, she in truth stood more alone than ever before, without purpose, meaning, or validation, more empty than before. While her friends moved on and grew, she stood solitary, locked in the twisted chains of the past and being eaten up by the ever expanding future. But to accept that truth, and to choose to finally leave her past and move forward, had saved Claire from a slow, silent death from within.

The way had not been easy. Like everything else in her life, she supposed.

She had made a lot of mistakes in her time. She regretted many of those even now, but Lightning could never regret who she had become, and where her choices had taken her. Her mistakes had made her who she was, just as much as her triumphs.

They had gotten her to where she was today, which was currently on her comm. device with Serah.

"Yes, everything is set, Serah, so stop worrying. I'll send you your itinerary later today. And I've made sure to take leave time from Rygdea that week. Yes.  _Yes_. Yes, I will tell Fang you say hi. No, I will  _not_  tell her that. Alright, I'll talk with you later, Serah. I love you. Bye."

She ended the call and pocketed her comm. device, moving from the patio out to the courtyard.

Fang was by the waterfront, laying contentedly in a large hammock and presumably soaking up the rays of the midday sun as she napped. Lightning took a long moment just to watch the curve of her bronze-skinned muscles. Her darkly raven hair glinted with hints of red in the strong sunlight. Fang was more beautiful than anyone she had ever met, and not just physically—all that wild and carefree power and expression, but backed with an unfeigned thoughtfulness in nearly everything she did.

_And she's mine_ , thought Lightning possessively, feeling the corners of her mouth tug upward.  _Just as much as I'm hers_.

For all the Lightning was quiet on the stone (she wasn't wearing her boots, after all), Fang still cracked one eye open in her direction.

"C'mere." She gestured for Lightning to join her in the large hammock.

Lightning sighed, shook her head, but smiled and did as asked, curling against Fang's side even as one tanned arm snaked around her shoulders to pull her closer. Lightning gave her a kiss, neither too brief nor too long.

"So?" asked the huntress, her eyes still lazily half-closed, though a grin now decorated her face.

Lightning pressed her head into the crook of Fang's neck. She exhaled sharply. "Powers above and below know what I'm going to do with Serah and Snow visiting. I mean, I told them about us months ago when we first started dating, and she still nearly squeals about it like…like…"

"Like Vanille?" supplied Fang helpfully. "Don't forget she'll be visiting with them, too, Sunshine."

A sound of exacerbation left Lightning's mouth. "I just don't understand why everyone has to make a big deal of it! Who cares?"

She felt the rumbling of a laugh vibrate through Fang's throat. "Because she's likely just very happy for you, Light, probably the same way Van is with me."

Fang shifted to place a kiss on Lightning's head. She knew Lightning hated being in the spotlight, especially when it was about her personal life, but it could only be helped so much. For a person as private as Lightning, friends and family tended to make an even bigger deal out of sudden, unexpected changes like this.

_Not quite so unexpected, maybe_ , Fang had to amend. Vanille had told her as much that she was not surprised something had finally happened between she and Lightning, only that it had taken as long as it did. And Fang had an itching feeling that the younger Farron had been on the exact same page as Van. She tried another approach.

"Well, you can always view it as Serah's payback for your original stance on her and Snow."

A soft knock to the ribs indicated what Lightning thought of that.

"Okay, okay…well, just try to tolerate their, um, uncontrolled excitement for the first hour, and then after that, you can call on your knight in shining armor to whisk you away."

"My knight in shining armor, huh?" Lightning raised her head to look at Fang, her eyebrows raised in skeptic amusement. She, of all people, did not need a hero. But Fang continued with it.

"Mmm hmm," she murmured. "Yours truly, right here. And if even if you don't need the whole being whisked away part, I can offer my services of being able to "punch Snow even harder than Gadot". Also, as an added perk, I'm great in bed. So what do you think?"

She finished looking up at Lightning, giving her best winning smile.

Lightning gave a low, throaty chuckle, indicating a success in Fang's book. "I  _guess_  I'll keep you around for a little while longer, though your sales pitch could use some work."

"Really?" asked Fang guilelessly. "Cause it still seems to be working fi—"

She was cut off when Lightning silenced her with kiss, this once much longer than the first. Lightning smiled as she settled back down against Fang's side, feeling significantly more at ease, and happy enough to continue laying out in the noon-day sun for some time, risk of sunburn or no.

She had gone a strange path in life thus far, filled with its fair share of ups and downs, but for this, she would do it all again in a heartbeat.

_Fin._


End file.
